Annie's Games
by Gamemaker John
Summary: Annie entered the 70th Hunger Games as a deadly killing machine, well equipped with the skills necessary to win the Games. But when she wins, she's broken, in more ways than one, and the only person who can calm her is her love: Finnick Odair. Something happened in the arena; something that changed her entire being. This is the story of Annie Cresta. Reviews appreciated!
1. Prologue

The reaping.

That's the moment when everything changed, when nothing I knew would be the same again. When I went down a path that could not be retread.

I still remember the moment so clearly in my mind. Memories are hard for me. Too often what I thought of the past turns out to be disjointed or uncertain. But there are certain moments that have stuck with me. The reaping is one of them.

I was practically bouncing with excitement as the kids lined up in the square. When the mayor read the Treaty of Treason I couldn't contain myself. People around me gave me supportive looks. Everyone knew I was going to volunteer as the Career from my district. I knew it too. Except, then, I didn't know the true torture of the Games. That came later. All I knew was that I, Annie Cresta, was going to be a given the honor of representing District Four, my home, in the most triumphant and most glorious feats of all time: The Hunger Games.`

Nevermind mind the fact that my chances of winning were minute and losing means certain death.

I guess that was the problem. I had never thought about losing as dying. I was brainwashed, like all the Careers, into thinking The Hunger Games were honorable and majestic. Never once did it cross my mind to question the real value of volunteering; whether it was worth the risk. Whether it was worth seeing twenty three poor dead children.

No. Stop it. It's too painful to think about. Too painful to reflect on those bodies. They never leave you, you know. When those bodies are your friends, or people you killed, you never forget. But when the bodies are both things, you are never the same again. Never.

No. I need to stop this.

Where was I? The reaping?

The escort drew a name. I don't remember who it was. And then there was a silence that overtook the entire square. It was my moment, my time to shine. If only I knew then what I now know. If I knew what tortures were ahead of me, if I knew that the Hunger Games would destroy my fragile mind with its horrors, maybe I wouldn't have volunteered.

But I didn't know then. I was too brainwashed by the Academy to see the truth. I knew not of what I was actually getting myself into. Now, in hindsight, I know that when I entered the Games, I set in motion a series of events that would change my life forever. And not in a good way.

And no matter how badly I wished I didn't, I still stepped forward proudly and shouted as loudly as I possibly could:

"My name is Annie Cresta, and I am volunteering for the Seventieth Annual Hunger Games!"


	2. Chapter 01: Entering the Capitol

I wake up suddenly, jostled awake by dreams of me standing with Caesar Flickerman watching the other tributes die. Knowing that I was the victor. The faces of my enemies were bathed in blood. I will never be able to forget the fact that I'm a tribute now. That I'm a piece in the Capitol's Games and that every second of my short life should be devote towards survival and glory.

Like, right now. This instant.

I sit up and look around my room. It's plain, beige and white pillows adorn wooden chairs and desks. Its big though, with a king-sized bed, a desk, table, and enough room to walk around in. I stand up and rub my toes in the velvety soft rug that coats the room. Everything in the room is soft, I guess it's designed to give the tributes comfort on their way to a fight to the death. The only sign that I'm on the train is the greenery flashing through the window. Nothing, not even the water glass beside my bed, is shaking or wobbling.

I see someone, probably my escort, has put something to wear on the edge of a chair. A simple white frock. I take off my blood-red blouse that I wore in the Reaping and put it on.

I'm about to go to the private bathroom next to the bedroom but the door opens instead. In walks my mentor, Scylla. She's tall, with chocolate skin, rare in District 4. She's middle-aged, but she still has the muscles from when she was a tribute. Her hair is styled in a no-nonsense crew cut. She'd probably be beautiful, if she'd ever stop frowning for once.

"What are you doing? You need to start training now, " says my mentor as she grips me by the shoulder and ushers me out the door, "Toren's in there now."

She gives me a push towards the hallway, and I uncertainly step out into it. I walk to the dining room. The hallway is rather cramped, and having Scylla follow my every step doesn't help. I lift my hand and let it drift along the wallpaper, feeling how perfect it is. Nothing in the Capitol can ever have flaws. Every so often I see a window. I look out at the green fields and blue skies, the people stopping and staring at the Capitol train. We're on the outskirts of a district. Seven, I guess, due to the bounty of trees.

And then there's the dining room. Huge. Opulent. Full of food. Two men are helping themselves to breakfast. I'm used to fine dining in District Four, but this is a step up from that. Bacon. Eggs. Waffles. Juices in every shade. Pastries filled with colorful sweet sauces. But no fish. I don't know whether the absence of sea-life is good or bad. I'm so used to it that I've become sick of it, but then again, it's pretty much all I know.

I sit down and begin helping myself. I sample tiny bites of everything. There are several varieties of starches and meats, and I put several types on my plate. The fruits look more familiar, and I gratefully take a chunk out of an apple.

While I'm eating, Scylla taps the older man on his shoulder. He wipes his mouth and stands up. When he removes the napkin, I recognize him as another mentor. Jet. His name's Jet. Scylla and Jet leave the room, whispering in tense voices as they glance back at us when they think we're not looking.

So that leaves Toren. He's the male tribute: my district partner. I shook his hand at the Reaping and got on the train together, but that's all I really know about him. He's tall, muscular, but other than that he looks just like me. Black hair, green eyes. Pale skin.

He notices me looking at me and he stops chewing his waffle. It occurs to me that he wants me to say something. "So..." I stumble, as I clumsily reach for the jam, "Have you been to the Capitol before?" It was unusual, but sometime the richest people in the richer districts got passes to the Capitol. My parents had gone. Once. All I know about it is stories and news coverage.

"Yes, I hear it's quite something to behold." says Toren. "And you?"

I shake my head. "Nothing but what I see on TV." He nods and the room is filled only with the sounds of eating and drinking. It's awkward. I don't know what to think of him. Traditionally, we are expected to team up, but then again, betrayal is common. I flashback to Scylla's Games. My mentor was in the Career alliance as usual, until she betrayed them. She slit all four of their throats while they were sleeping. Four cannons at once. Scylla went on to kill half the tributes left in the arena and has lived on as a legend ever since. Again, not the good kind.

"How much time have you been training at the Academy?" He asks.

"Umm...Since I was seven. So ten years." Has it really been that long? The Academy is the place where rich parents in Four send their kids to train for the Hunger Games. Six days a week. 8 hours a day. Past victors and other fighting experts teach us. There are about a hundred children in it total, and every year, the leaders have a massive vote to determine the best Careers. Those two, boy and girl, would be chosen to volunteer at the reaping. It is a huge honor to be chosen, especially since I'm only seventeen.

He nods. "The same in my case. Only I'm eighteen. Explains why we've never met." Of course. The prospective tributes are split up by age. The only people I've known there were 17-year-old girls.

So, to trust or not to trust? Toren seems nice, but I still need to know more before I decide on alliances or anything. I'm about to open my mouth to ask another question when Scylla and Jet return, with two computer tablets in their hands, fresh from District Three.

"First things first. Do either of you have any objection to being trained together?" asks Scylla before she sits down. I look at Toren. He raises one quizzical eyebrow at me, as if judging my character and skill. We both turn to our respective mentors and shake our heads.

"Good. Now then," Jet sits down across from us and shows us the tablet he has. "These are your training records from the Academy. They look fine, nothing amazing."

"And you'll have to _be _amazing in order to win." Scyllas says, looking at us in turn. She looks us over, our muscles, our bodies, our eyes. She doesn't nod or give any sign of approval, but to Scylla, nothing bad means we've passed the test.

She gestures to her screen, "Now, here are your scores from the Academy's tests. Toren, you excel in strength, archery, javelins, and swordsmanship, correct?" Toren nods. "That's fairly standard for Careers. Is there anything else you can do? Hunting? Healing? Speed?"

Toren scratches his neck, "Nothing much. I've done the basic food gathering, but nothing more. Not unless you count swimming."

"I don't." Scylla says coldly. She turns to me. "Annie, you are good at sprinting. As far as weapons go, you have...knife throwing. Is that it? That seems to be it from the Academy."

I pause. I was never the best at anything else. Too small for tridents, too weak for swords, not focused enough for archery. "Yep, that's it. I'm very accurate though."

The corners of Scylla's mouth tightens. "Nothing else?"

"I'm afraid not." I hesitate in pointing out several other aspects of my training -speed, reflexes, and agility- but I don't. Weapons are more important in the Capitol and in training. But I'm hoping that my skills will prove useful when we actually enter the arena.

"Well, that's disappointing." says Scylla as she scribbles something on her tablet. "Guess we'll have to play up the speed and agility. But those Aurelians had been hoping to bet on some good weaponry. I'll say they have a secret talent..." She trails away as she plans a strategy for our sponsors. She may be tough and mean, but she knows what she's doing. Four of her tributes have become victors in her twenty one years of mentoring, much more than other mentors of any district.

While she is muttering to herself and making phone calls to wealthy Capitol denizens, Jet leans forwards and looks us both in the eye. "Now look at me." he says. Jet is much younger than Scylla, and smaller. They probably have a good cop/bad cop routine all planned out. Scylla scares us to stop arrogance and Jet boosts our confidence. "You can do this. You're Careers; this is what you've trained for." I look directly at him. I know all of this. I don't need external motivation. I know that I have the drive and the skills to win.

"Now, we need to talk about alliances." Jet speaks carefully as if delivering the birds and the bees. "As you know, alliances among Careers are so common that it is unusual to not have them. You can hunt down other tributes much better in an alliance, but in the end, only one can win. I'd like to see you two, at least, pair up, but in the end you get to decide. So, will you or won't you?" He looks at Toren, and then me, and then Toren. I realize he's talking about us, Toren and I, as allies. We look at one another.

"I...uh" I stammer on. Toren just looks at me in silence. "I'm not quite sure right now. I mean, we just met and-"

"Well, I don't see why not." says Toren. "I mean, we're both Four, I think we can go far together." He speaks deliberately, as if he's been planning this for a while. And I realize he probably has been. He's been thinking about alliances this whole time. So has all of the Careers.

_Come on Annie! Get it together! _I realize that my time in the Capitol will be very important. I'll need to scope out competition, get sponsors, and intimidate the non-Careers. Unlike fighting, this I have never done. I'll need to learn fast if I am to win.

I clear the table and sit on the couch. I hug my knees to my chest and try to hide my nerves. I'm not afraid. I know my limits, which is something very few Careers do. But winning the Games is inside them. I'll just need to focus, and become a little more confident.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Toren looking at me. He too finishes and sits next to me. "So, now that we're allies," he says with a genuine gleam in his eye, "we should probably get to know our competition.

"Ah, excellent idea!" Scylla mutters as she pauses typing into a keyboard. She looks at her watch. "We have about two hours before we get to the Capitol. In the meantime, you need to see the other tributes. We have the reaping footage of every district. If we start now, we'll finish before we reach the Capitol."

The wall behind the two mentors lights up as a giant screen. I recognize the reapings. I'm a little excited to see them. Every year, I watch them and every year I love to see who's drawn. Whether they cry or stand strong. Whether they are big or small. It has a level of reality and excitement that is a testament to the Hunger Games.

The District One escort makes a few announcements and proceeds to draw the girl's name. No sooner had her hand entered the reaping ball than a bulky red-haired Career volunteered. And that's how it went. The other four Careers were large and strong, just as expected. Three's tributes were pale and ashy. As soon as the girl was chosen in Three, it switched to District Four. The escort carries on about the Dark Days for a while and then draws the boy's name. A large boy confidently volunteered. When the girl's name was called, it took awhile for the tribute to come to the stage, to finally volunteer. And when she did, when _I _did, her voice is loud. I'm proud of that moment.

After District Four vanishes from the screen, I begin watching again. The same crowds of blue and grey, the same scared children. And it's much, much better. With the richer Districts done with, there are no volunteers, except for a few exceptions. All the tributes who are called, stay there, uncertain and very, very afraid. Perfect.

A few stood out to me: a huge boy in Six who volunteered, a thirteen-year-old District Nine boy who burst into tears, two District 11 tributes who look like brother and sister. A ghastly woman in pink is calling out the District 12 girl when I glance out the window and see it. A glorious white city, looking like a place of the gods.

A city in which I would spend the rest of my life before the Games.

A city full of cheering crowds. Crowds betting on my very death.

A city, unlike none other in Panem.

The Capitol.


	3. Chapter 02: The Prep Team

I get up from the couch and gaze out the window. I don't know where to look first. Across a small lake that reflects the sun's beams is the Capitol. Grand, majestic buildings, full of grandeur. Spires adorn the horizon. Almost everything is made of glass, so that the entire city beams light like crystal. Artificial colors are everywhere, in a crazy style of light and dark. My eyes soak it in for a moment, a brief glorious moment, when the vision is ripped away by the train tunnel we go through. Everything outside the window turns black as we whiz through the narrow tube.

I turn away from the glass (which I realized I've been pressing my face against) and look at Toren. He too was looking at the Capitol in awe, and I recall that he has never seen it before, like me. Scylla and Jet aren't impressed however, as they practically live in the Capitol.

The television monitor behind them turns off, as both of the District 12 children are reaped. I almost want to know who they are, but they're never competition anyway so it's no problem. Scylla almost reads my mind when she says, "Don't worry about them, they'll die in the bloodbath. The only ones you need to think about, other than the Careers, is the male volunteer from Six and maybe that boy from Five." She snaps her phone shut. "Everyone else will be cannon fodder."

As the train continues to move through the tunnel, Jet and Scylla coach us on presentation as much as they can. We are to appear strong, confident and likeable. We should wave and smile at the audiences, but also puff out our chests to look powerful. We must not come across as cocky or stiff. "The quest for finding sponsors starts now," says Scylla. "Don't screw it up."

Toren and I nod in confirmation. I'm worried that I'll seem fake by trying to look powerful. Like I am trying to hard to win the crowd over. Which of course I am.

"Oh and one more thing," Scylla says, "Do whatever your stylist says. _Anything. _Annie, you'll have Alexis, and Toren, you'll have..." She checks her tablet, "...you'll have Marcus. They're both very, very good. One of the reasons District Four is so widely known so early. I've seen the costumes for you. They're very...interesting." She winks at us.

Before I can digest her word choice and what it means, we enter the Capitol.

It's even more impressing up close. Grand buildings full of light and color rise up. Every structure is competing to be the best, the biggest, the brightest. Every surface looks perfect, no grime, no dirt, just white and more white. As I look, the entire city seems to almost glow. The mountains surrounding it make it feel even more heavenly. "It's so beautiful," I whisper to myself. Toren hears me and grins.

And the people. I tear myself away from the buildings and look at the denizens of the Capitol. They wear ridiculous clothes and makeup. No two people look even remotely similar. Crazy clothes and colors adorn every person I see. The people gather near the train tracks as we whiz by. They wave at us eagerly, seeing two Careers. Somehow, I don't think about the Games, but I think of the people, eager to see me. My face breaks into a smile, a genuine smile, and I wave back. The people shout and scream as they see me and I look back in joins me. The two tributes from Four, winning sponsors side by side. It's hard to think that he's my competition. I prefer to think of him as an ally.

Then we enter the train station. The cheering crowds and the view of the Capitol disappears, to be replaced by a white interior with only Peacekeepers. The train slows to a stop and people begin to disembark. My gaze lazily wanders from the boring exterior to my mentors who are behind me.

Jet calls over our escort, a Capitol denizen dressed in orange whose name escapes me. Jet and Scylla talk to him in tense whispers and the Capitol man looks uncomfortable. I've been on the receiving end of one of Scylla's stares, and I know that it isn't very pleasant.

As some Capitol workers begin preparing to get the train ready for disembarkation, I turn to Toren. "It's not hard to see who's really in charge here." I whisper, watching as the escort begins to redden.

"Yeah, I think he's new. The mentors are always in charge in the Career districts. The escorts don't really do much, just ferry us around. The mentors can do that."

"True," I say, turning to look at Toren. "But I think he's going to wet himself." We both shake a little as we start laughing. The situation is made funnier because the orange escort begins to redden. I hold my hand over my mouth to stifle it. With a glance that could melt ice, Scylla tells me to be quiet. Toren and I stop laughing immediately and try to look as serious as possible.

Scylla and Jet finish with the escort and walk over to us. They both look angry. I exchange a quick glance with Toren and he seems unhappy. Then Scylla yells, "What is the matter with you?! You two need to get your act together if you want any chance of winning this. Understand?" We both nod yes. Better to simply ignore Scylla for the time being. She's always angry at something or another than kids and teens don't understand. There won't be any adults in the arena: a freedom that I am starting to crave.

Then Scylla, Toren, Jet and I travel to the training center. As we walk (for we had plenty of time) I am still amazed by the Capitol from within. Every view is more breathtaking than the last. It comes off as a magnificent, imposing castle, friendly to its people but harsh towards outsiders. I'm not quite sure which one I am.

The people stop and stare as we pass by. Two tributes flanked by past victors must be a sight not usually seen. They flock around us, in strange costumes and hairdos, and all clamor for a chance to see two Careers. They shout, asking questions about our strength, our strategy, our ruthlessness. One man dressed in a neon green kilt even reaches his hand out to touch my arm. I follow my mentor's instructions: be vague, but appear strong. I tell the Capitol citizens that no, I haven't met the other Careers, yes, I am feeling confident, and yes, I will kill many people. It's getting harder and harder to deal with them, and I only do it to try and get sponsors.

Finally, we arrive at the training center. A large skyscraper that seems to try and outdo the rest of the buildings. I feel dizzy just by looking up. Scylla leads me inside the pristine doors.

My prep team sees us immediately and ushers me into the remake center: a cold white bare room full of bottles and brushes and tweezers and dyes and things whose purpose I have no idea of. Toren is ushered away in a similar manner.

I am in a cold, white room full of beauty products. Simple chairs and desks surround the place, in a very planned manner. There is not a speck of dust anywhere. I am laying on a table covered in paper. My body struggles to find comfort in the stiff metal, but fails.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a whirlwind. In seconds, I realize I am alone and begin to be worked on. I am poked, prodded and made to look...beautiful. My prep team hovers around me: three men and a woman. They make horrible remarks about simple things such as the knots in my hair and the length of my fingernails. "OH! If only we had a tribute who took care of herself." moans one man dressed in a swirly black and gray unitard. The others nod in acknowledgement of the tragedy.

The whole time, I am thinking about meeting my stylist and what she plans for me.I remember her name is Alexis. She's been a stylist for over a decade. Traditionally, District Four's costumes are nothing more than beautiful sea creature imitations. But recently, Alexis has been focusing more on the ocean than anything else.

A sharp tug on my eyelashes brings me back to reality. They're almost done. The prep team has finished my body and is starting on my face. I wince as needles and tweezers pinch any unwanted hairs. The woman squeezes weird creams and things on my cheeks and rubs it in. I squint, so that nothing gets in my eye. My whole vision is taken up by my prep team: faces that seem weird and foreign up close and caked in makeup. The whole situation is so surreal to me.

Finally, they stand back and nod. "You don't seem so hideous now!" says a man. The others congratulate themselves on a job well done. One of them presses a button on a table nearby. I am too distracted by my appearance in the mirror to notice.

My hair is perfectly straight and silky. The black is heightened somehow...maybe it has to do with the shampoo they washed it in. My face is pale, but also radiant. My eyes have a hint of black eyeshadow, which simply illustrates the green in them. I look plain, but very pretty.

"Like what you see?" I turn to my right and notice a small woman walking towards me. She offers me her hand and I take it. Her grip is firm. "I'm Alexis."

"Annie. Annie Cresta." I say.

She smiles. "I know exactly who you are. And soon, so will all of Panem."


	4. Chapter 03: The Tribute Parade

Yes. Of course they will. Because tonight is the tribute parade.

Alexis gets busy. She's small, but efficient. As far as Capitol people go, she is one of the weirdest looking. Purple slick hair one one side and green ruffled curls on the other. Neon shades of lipstick and eyeshadow. But, most of all, the tatoos. Birds mostly. Ravens, doves, geese, eagles. All of them in the midst of flight. Three crows fly across her neck. Condors alight on her arm. Pelicans peck at her feet. She moves so quickly that the ink seems to fly across her body.

First, she disrobes me and inspects the prep team's work. I feel an urge to cross my arms across my chest, but I resist. Even though Alexis is a female, and the only one watching, I still am very uncomfortable. I'm not modest, but come on, this is a perfect stranger!

A sudden chill alights on my body, and goosebumps emerge all over. Alexis scans her eyes cross my eyes, face and head. She circles around me, and looks for any imperfections in the skin. Finally, she clucks her approval.

"Here, wear this." Alexis says as she tosses me the gown. I put it on gratefully. Most of my body is covered, although it is so light that it has no barrier against the cold draft. I shiver.

When I look up again, my designer is talking to an Avox boy in the corner of the room. He nods as she speaks to him, in a rather rude tone. I can't quite make out what she is saying. He disappears quickly once she is finished.

"What was that about?" I ask as Alexis returns to her seat.

"What? Oh nothing." Alexis busies herself by rummaging through her make-up kits. "He's just going to get the costume. It'll take awhile to get ready, so I'll have the pre...-oh here it is!"

The boy returns with a large red cart that he pushes rather exhaustingly. He makes wheezing noises as he moves steadily towards us. He's pushing a heavy box on top of a platform for wheels. A white sheet covers the box's interior. I glance at Alexis. She's certainly pulled all the stops to make this dramatic.

Alexis rips the veil off the box to reveal...blue. That's the only way I can describe it. Blue fabric. Different shades and tints. Some are longer and some are shorter. Ripped, shredded pieces of blue. Some even look green or grey or white. But the only thing that is in the cart is blue.

My brows wrinkles in disappointment but Alexis looks ecstatic. "Perfect! Now you," she motions for the Avox, "go find. . ." She lists a string of Capitol names I soon forget.

My eyes return to the cart once the boy leaves. As I scan the garments it begins to look a little better. I still have no idea what it is, but the colors are quite magnificent. Alexis pulls out a blue-grey frock from the pile. She tells me to undress and I slowly comply.

As she puts the simple dress around me she continues talking very quickly, "Now where was i? Ah, well the prep team will assemble the costume itself, while I will handle the make-up. Scylla sent me a list of your measurements so it should fit perfectly." She zips up my back.

I turn to look at the mirror. The dress is a light blueish color and covers me neck to toe. I don't know where Scylla got those measurements, but they were right. It forms to my body extremely well. The sleeves form gloves around my fingers and the fabric stops at my ankles. My feet and my head are the only two parts of the body that are visible. The rest is covered in a horrible shade of blue. The entire thing is covered in grey ruffles that seem to have no functional or decorative purpose. It's not that pretty.

"So...um is this really the dress?" I say, turning my body to catch a glimpse of the back.

Alexis, who is in the midst of examining several varieties of sparkles (yes, I did just say sparkles) bursts out laughing. "Oh really honey? What type of stylist do you think I am?" She chuckles as she grabs a handful of the blue fabric in the cart. "_This _is your dress."

"I...uh..." None of this was making sense. I bite my lip and try not to curse. Of course, I get her the one year where she utterly fails. If I have a bad costume, the Capitol will ignore me. My chances for sponsors will go down, as will my chances of winning.

It's a horrible feeling to realize that your life is somewhat dependant on something you can't control.

Alexis seems to enjoy my discomfort. She winks at me. "Don't worry, you'll see soon enough. Now sit!" I sit in the chair and Alexis stands behind me. Watching the mirror, I see the door open and the four prep team workers come in. Alexis turns around to face them. On the back of her neck is the most beautiful eagle tattoo. The eyes glare at me from behind her head. They remind me of Scylla. It doesn't make the situation better.

"Claudia, Drusus, and Glaucia. You three start putting together the ocean. Lucretius, you'll do hair, and I'll do make-up. We have about two hours until Scylla expects you back, so we'll barely finish in time." The first three people she called out grab handfuls of the blue fabric in the cart and rush over to me. Luc-Lic...-whatever, it starts with an L- produces some more blue fabric and yanks a handful of my hair to begin working.

"Wha-" I mumble. A dozen questions race through my head, all variations of '_what the hell is going on?' _Alexis turns my chair so I don't face the mirror. I have no idea of what is happening to my body. They work at a fevered pace. Alexis dabs heavy amounts of make-up onto my face and puts lipstick and mascara and many other beauty products whose function I know not. The male beautician weaves slim blue streams into my hair, tying knots and applying some...I'm not even sure what type of liquid it is... to it.

But I am most fascinated by the final three prep workers. Those blue strips of fabric seem to have a use now. The grey ruffles on my dress seem to as well. The people tie blue fabric to the ruffles, which are composed of tiny loops. The blue cloth strips are long, so they dangle as soon as they are let go. I feel them with my fingers: it is soft to the touch, yet shiny like plastic. All of the strips flutter when I move slightly.

The workers grab the blue cloth and put it all over my body. They don't apologize or even warn me when they reach across me uncomfortably. ALL over my body. I am getting sick of being poked and prodded like a District 10 animal. I wince as one of the stylists loops the cloth around a ruffle in my crotch.

I really need this to be over.

At some point, Alexis steps back to admire her progress. I still can't see myself in the mirror, but I can tell she looks pleased by me. But then again, this is a woman with two different hair colors, so her definition of fashion could be anything.

She stares me up and down and then holds her hand out to the prep team. "Stop. We're done." Looking down, I realize she's right. My entire body is blue now, not grey. My face is properly caked in makeup. My hair is tied back in uncomfortable knots. I don't think I could be any more done.

With something that looks like a tear in her eye, Alexis turns me towards the mirror. "Look at yourself. You're beautiful."

I do. And I am.

The hundreds of strips of fabric dangle down my entire body. The dozens of shades of blue. No two colors the same. When I shift my weight ever so slightly, my entire body shimmers like the ocean. The sheen on the dress is so vibrant it gives off a sort of aura.

As far as the costume is shaped, it seems like a dress. My shoulders are puffed out, making me seem bigger than I actually am. It shows my curves pretty well. There is more fabric near the bottom of it, starting near my hips. It swirls a bit as I twist.

But I actually gasp when I look at my face. Streaks of silver and blue slide from my nose to my hair, making me seem almost feline-esque. My eyes are decked in black eyeshadow. The rest of my face is covered in silver sparkingly glitter. My cheekbones stand out, making me seem older. My lips are green in color, which sets off my eyes. My face looks like how I would imagine a mermaid's to look: blue and green like the sea and completely alien.

My hair is entwined with more strips of blue fabric. It is tied back and coated in glitter. It floats down my back in gossamer strands of blue, black, and silver. It frames my face well.

I am unrecognizable. I am blue like the ocean. I am silver like the sea foam that collects on the beaches. I am alien like the fish that swim beneath the darkest depths of the water. I am beautiful like the sunsets that come every night and turn the ocean into liquid gold.

I touch my hand to my face to confirm that it's actually me. I am somewhat startled to find the answer is yes.

Alexis is beaming behind me. She grasps my shoulders and says, "I know, I know!" drawing out the syllables. "You look...flawless!"

_Flawless. _It's never been a adjective I've associated with myself before. But, right here, in this moment, I think I might be as close to it as I ever will be.

The ocean creature in the mirror begins to smile. It takes me a second to realize that it's me.

"Good! Just like that! You'll need to smile for the parade." Alexis scampers around me, looking at every last detail. She finishes with a dab of makeup here, a touch of glitter here, until I finally pass her standards. She hands me a pair of ridiculously high heels, which are plain white. "No one will see them; they'll just make you look taller." She explains.

Thankfully, my parents made me practice in high heels before. The Academy taught only survival, and the parents of prospective tributes were encouraged to teach etiquette and manners to win over sponsors. My parents definitely did. So, instead of wobbling around on the shoes, I walk upright and poised. Alexis looks pleased.

"Perfect! Now walk around a bit." I strut my stuff through the white room like I've been taught. My gown shimmers as I move, and I appear as though water is cascading down me. I begin to feel a little better. With this look, I'll definitely stand out.

Alexis clasps her hands together, "Splendid! this is some of my best work! Maybe next year I'll be promoted to Two, or even One!" And with that lovely thought she leads me to the chariots.

She grips my shoulders and escorts me through a white hallway that is connected to my room. As I leave I notice the door has the number 4 etched in black ink on it. The room opposite mine has the same design. We walk down the hallway and pass the doors to District 3, 2, and 1. The other four Careers are in there. I wonder what they're like. We almost certainly will be in an alliance together. But we don't have time to stop and chat.

At the end of the hallway is a simple elevator. Alexis opens the door to it and beckons me to get inside. Once I do, she seems glued to the outside. "What? You're not coming in?" I say.

"No, no. Once you get down there, just look for Scylla. Marcus already called; Toren is done, so you two are ready to go." I am suddenly nervous about being displayed before the Capitol. This moment is one of the ones that could decide my fate. Tributes win and lose because of the number of sponsors they have. It's starting to become real to me.

Alexis turns away and lets the door slide shut. Just before it clicks, a girl pries it open with her small fingers. Her eyes lock into mine when she steps into the elevator. Her skimpy shiny silver skirt is punctuated by electronic looking designs. It could only be one District.

"Are you Three?" I ask when the elevator closes, this time for real. I notice her hands are shaking slightly. She looks at me and nods stiffly.

"I'm Annie. From District 4, if you haven't already guessed." I say, gesturing at my dress. She nods at me.

An awkward silence fills the compartment. In a second, I know Scylla would hate me for what I'm doing. Getting to know the competition. Humanizing them. In fact, it'll probably hurt me in the long run, but I do it anyway.

"I'm...Jasmine." says the girl. She looks away from me quickly. She is far too meek to be an ally or even a threat. I decide to intimidate her.

"That's a lovely name," I begin, "I wonder how it'll look when it's being beamed in the sky after the hovercraft has collected your lifeless corpse." I grin, somewhat evilly. Scylla would be proud.

Jasmine's face turns white faster than the elevator opens. The door clicks open with a ding and she flees as if I'm holding a chainsaw and covered in blood.

I laugh. That was too easy. With the door open I see the bottom of the Remake Center. It's a huge black room filled with people. Horses are being connected to chariots by Avoxes. Scattered throughout, it looks like twenty or so tributes are talking to their mentors. The others haven't come down yet.

I see Scylla, Jet, and Torn gathered by two pure white horses decked in blue streamers. I hurry over, though not as fast as Scylla is gesturing me to come.

"Where have you been?!" She demands when I arrive. "Nevermind, I don't care. Now listen to me."

She urges me, in a commanding tone, exactly what I needed to do when the parade began. I needed to appear likeable. I should wave and smile as the crowds cheered. Puff out my chest to appear stronger and bigger than I was. Blow kisses. Catch flowers. Look ecstatic.

I didn't want to interupt Scylla, but I've heard it all before. My parents had coached me through this stuff.

"And above all, stop scowling!" Scylla says, "Like right now! Stop it. You make yourself so unappealing when you do that!" Of course, that just makes me feel even crappier to have to deal with her, so it takes a lot of effort to smile. Once I do, Scylla seems to be satisfied.

"Now, Alexis did a marvelous job. If you act the part, you and Toren will be the frontrunners of the betting race. And trust me, that'll only make my, and your, job much easier." What she's saying makes sense. "Now get up there. You have three minutes."

Toren helps me up the chariot and Jet closes the door on us both. "Good luck." he says. The horses in front of us, which have the same blue and green fabric strewn into the mane, launch forward into the line of chariots. We settle in behind the two District Three tributes. Jasmine looks behind me like a startled deer. I wink at her and grin. She turns around and stares straight ahead.

The lights in the room turn off and the workers prepare the release the chariots. A small sweep of nausea overcomes my stomach. We have little time left, so I decide to quell my nerves by not thinking about what's going to happen. Instead, I look at Toren's costume. It's very similar to mine. Instead of a dress though, it is a form-fitting suit. And instead of fabric in his hair, he has a crown-like blue ring of cloth that floats down his neck. But other than that, we're very much the same. Even the makeup and the glitter. _Especially_ the makeup and glitter.

He notices me looking and I smirk. "You look very...masculine." I tease.

"Why thank you. I pride myself on my masculinity." Toren says matter-of-factly. "I think the sparkles really add something."

I laugh a little. "Looks like Marcus went all out with the glitter." I have to admit, no matter how gorgeous the dress is, the makeup and hair makes us look quite weird.

"Yeah, he doesn't quite have Alexis'... refinement." he says. I'm not quite sure if he's joking or not.

Outside, the Capitol anthem plays and cuts our conversation short. Underneath the majestic brass sound, several Capitol denizens chant the lyrics. "Oh Horn of Plenty! A Horn of Plenty for us all!" I follow along as I mouth the words. The song is quite inspiring to me. Even as I've trained my entire life for the Games, I still lived in an extremely rich community. My life was pretty happy up until a few years ago when I started training like crazy. But, like everyone in District 4, I loved the Capitol and what it stood for.

With a start the District One tributes start moving. The line begins to shorten. First 2 goes, then 3. And then us. Once the District Three tributes disappear from view, the horses wait a few seconds, and then they move forward as well. I put on my most winning smile and brace myself for the crowds. A few seconds later my face is being beamed on huge screens in the Capitol. Heck, my face was being beamed across all of Panem.

The crowds are on both sides of the row. Cheering crowds. People are stamping their feet. Throwing roses. Screaming our names. It seems that thousands upon thousands of people are here, craning to get a glimpse of the tributes. My face is projected onto huge screens. Everywhere I look, I see myself and Toren. We are moving so fast that are costumes are waving behind us, creating a mirage of blue that reflects from our backs. My blue and silver face is projected on the screens with a halo of shimmering blue around it.

All of the colors and sounds and screams mix together into a synesthesiac view of the world. It's mind-boggling to be the center of ten thousand people's attention.

My face breaks into a smile and I raise my arms to the crowd. They crescendo into a fevered pitch when they see me. My hands wave eagerly back and forth as I try to look at everyone. You never know, one of them could be a rich sponsor. As I realize this, I straighten my shoulders and poise my back to make myself seem bigger. I am suddenly grateful for a few touches that Alexis made: the high heels, the large shoulders. Being in front of this massive crowd has made me feel very, very small.

Next to me, Toren is conducting himself the same way. We are both standing at either side of the chariot, trying to woo as many people as possible. Without warning, he launches a deep roar at the crowds and tenses his arms to amplify his already large muscles. I guess it's something Jet told him to do. The crowds scream back at him, and the sound carries through the long road, like a never-ending wave.

Following suit, I scream as loudly as I can and pump my fists in the air. Toren and I stay that way as we travel down the road. The air whistles through my costume and my hair. The shouts of the crowd leave me almost deaf. The lights of the Capitol glare at me from every angle. My mouth is open in a loud scream that is taken by the wind. Toren's is as well.

For the first time since I was reaped, I feel in control of my fate. I feel powerful. I feel... alive.


	5. Chapter 04: Mara

I soak in the power of the moment for a brief second and let it all absorb. I close my eyes and take in the screaming crowds and the triumphant anthem. Our names on the tops of a thousand lungs. I know the ride is almost over. The roar fades as we slow. The horses' trot turns into a fast walk, then a walk, and then nothing at all. We are pulled into place next to Districts Three and Five. And suddenly, our the parade is finished.

The wind is no longer blowing through my hair, and the streamers behind me settle down. I lean forward and grip the edge of the chariot and have a deep sigh. Man, was that an adrenaline rush. My face is still beaming.

The final few chariots rattle into place behind me. Now, all 24 tributes are all in one place. We are all facing a huge white building. And by, all, I mean everyone. Including the crowd of people that is just now starting to be quiet and sit down. So, we are all looking up at the grand columns that reach higher and higher. The imposing building is juxtaposed by a small balcony where I see President Snow.

Once the crowds finish talking he goes right into his speech. "Welcome tributes! Welcome to the..." That's as far as I got before I stopped listening. It's the same thing every year. Welcome yadda yadda bravery, honor, sacrifice, blah blah 24 tributes yadda yadda Hunger Games. Yes, we know we're in the Hunger Games and that we are brave and all that.

I tune him out and look around at the other costumes. Today was the first day for people to see the tributes, and it really starts off the race for betting and sponsors. Our costumes are easily some of the best. District 7 looks rather elegant in their trailing tree garments. And even though Jasmine and her partner are rather weak, their stylist must be good. I am looking at a weird abstract District Five one when Toren nudges me.

"Look over there," he whispers, pointing to District 12. I squint. As the sun goes down it is getting harder and harder to see. The 12 tributes are dressed in black clothes for the coal or whatever they make. I look a little harder and burst out laughing. They're naked! Naked and covered in black powder. The girl has her arms crossed awkwardly across her chest and the boy cups his family jewels. They look like they want to sink through the floor. Several tributes begin to snicker as they notice their costume/lack thereof.

Toren and I laugh loudly at them, taking no pains to hide it. So what if we offend them? They never win anyway. It's really good that they are so hideously dressed. District 4 has one of the best costumes this year, and easily the best of the Careers districts. My spirits soar. This is an excellent entrance to my Hunger Games.

But also, I am reminded that this is the first time to see my competition. Of these 24, only one will win. I'll need to ally with some of them in order to win. And I'll have to kill some of them to. I look to my left, where Toren is alternating glances at Snow and at other tributes. Even him, even Toren, is my competition. The realization chills me a little, because I've already started to think of him as a friend.

With some dramatic words that make the entirety of the Capitol clap, President Snow finished up. The chariots move out of the semicircle where we were gathered. The horses move in line and follow each efficiently. Before we enter the Remake Center, I turn around and get one last look at the crowds. The magnificently uniquely dressed people cheer when we are exiting. I wave my hand one last time at them as I depart.

And then the tribute parade is over.

Inside the massive Remake Center, two Avoxes come and start taking the horses off. Toren takes off his blue crown and heaves a large sigh. "That was actually rather fun." He says. He steps down from the chariot and holds his arm out to me.

"Oh, why thank you." I say as I use him as a crutch to get down. I jump down on the floor and instantly take off my ridiculously high heels and toss them back into the chariot. My bare feet slap comfortably against the ground. I whip my hair over my face and begin to take the streamers out. Within seconds I stop due to the pain that arises whenever I pull on one tied to my hair.

Toren hands me a water bottle and I drink gratefully. I splash some on my face and try to get the gunk off of it. When I open my eyes, he's doing the same. We both look like mutts with melting blue skin but we don't care. There aren't any cameras around.

Toren and I clean up as best as we can and start heading for the exit. We turn the corner of the chariot and halt in front of a large girl who blocks our way. Her name is Mara. District 1. A Career.

"Oh," she says, offering her hand to us, "I was going to say how awesome you looked out there but I guess I was too late to see anything pretty." Mara's eyes look into mine with a coldness that reminds me of my instructors at the Academy. My cheeks redden beneath the smears of blue and silver. But I don't look away.

I take her hand as her brow furrows. She holds her grip a moment longer than needed. "Well, the feeling is mutual." I say pointing to her costume. She is dressed in little circular mirrors that reflect light: something designed to make her sparkle and appear heavenly. But it looks angular and robotic. Not beautiful. "Except that my designer actually did a decent job."

"Well," she says, "Maybe your stylist will be able to help you when you're on your own in the arena."

Was that a threat?

"I'm sure that Alexis will certainly help." says Toren, interjecting his say. "And I must comment on your costume, Mara. It really looks something on you."

Mara takes the complement in stride. She bounces her rusty curls up and down as she nods.

"Oh, wow. There's Scylla and Jet." I say dryly. Toren takes the hint. We make our excuses and leave.

As we're walking away, I turn to him and ask Toren what he thought of that.

"She's seems fine." He says. I turn to look at him and cock my head to the side. "Okay, fine she's a little aggressive, but so were you. You're both volunteers who've trained for this. She just wanted to make up for the fact that we had better costumes."

"Or she could just be a total bitch."

He laughs, "Well, yes, maybe that. Remember, we need to ally with her if we want to make a Career alliance."

"Yeah..." I mumble. I pout for a second before I realize that Jet and Scylla are talking to a Capitol couple. A man and a woman, who both look rich; judging from the jewels dripping down their necks. They're all nodding and smiling.

"Oh, here they are!" Scylla comes over with a smile (yes a smile, you heard me). "Toren and Annie. One of them is sure to become victor!"

The man ruffles his feathers on his jacket and stares us down. "They certainly don't look the part."

"Oh stop it, Agrippa!" says the woman. "I'm sure they will do excellent."

She turns to us and winks. "We always sponsor District Four. My husband's just being a pain." She turns to him and he scoffs.

"Well, I assure you, sir, that looks don't matter in the arena. Just skill and strength." I say.

"And brutality." Toren mentions.

A brief look that could be approval flits across Agrippa's face.

Jet sees it and grips him by the shoulder. "They are fine young tributes. I'd bet on them too. Here, let's retire to my apartment and we can talk details." Agrippa and his wife follow him along the passage to the outside. Before the woman leaves, she mouths 'good luck' to both of us. Then she gives us a beaming smile and heads out.

Scylla relaxes her face, which was in an uncomfortable grin the whole time. She explains, "Agrippa and Cornelia Gaius. They are sponsors for us almost every year. Congratulations, you've just won one sponsor. You actually handled that well."

Scylla continues to make half-compliments as we ascend the elevator to level four. She notes our performance in the parade. "You two are getting some buzz right now. If you keep it up over the next few days you'll get many sponsors and be favorites to win. Tomorrow, I will help you conduct yourselves for training." As if on cue, the elevator door opens up. "But for now, clean up and get ready for dinner."

We all enter into the suite. It's pretty similar to my large house in District 4. The furniture is the same: angular faces colored bright neon. My right opens up into a large dining room/living room space. It has a table, chairs, a wall-screen TV and several couches. To my left, a hallway leading to my room and Toren's. The walls are painted a cheery white that makes it seem less constricting. Toren and I walk into our respective rooms.

It is large, with a bathroom connected to on one wall. The carpet is a soft green. The adornations are simplistic: just a large bed, some tables and a nightstand. The walls are a light blue and waxes and waves its way across the room. It reminds me of the ocean. This small touch leaves me feeling a little less homesick.

But it's missing the smell of salt in the window. And the heat blowing in from the sea. And the sun setting on the water that I can view from...

No. Now is not about home. It is about the Games. It is about winning; winning and bringing honor and pride to my district.

Within the next half hour, I take off the constricting costume, shower, and put on a new silken robe from the closet. Of the fifty shampoos available, there are only 20 or so I recognize or even know their use. I pick a few at random and rub it through my scalp. The scents of mint, mango, and a spicy orange smell I don't know overloads my senses. I decide to stop experimenting.

With the hideous makeup down the drain, I am beginning to look like myself again. I pull the wet streamers from my hair and throw them away. With all of the water, they slip off like butter. My face is now pale white again, and hair is entirely devoid of sparkles. Satisfied, I put on a red robe and walk to the living room for dinner.

No one is there yet, so I help myself to some roasted animal that looks delicious. I drizzle some green sauce on it and pile it into two pieces of rye bread. As I bite down, green and red juices drip down my fingers. Mmmmm...I don't even know why this is so good.

When Scylla walks in, I hastily wipe my mouth on a washcloth and pretend to be eating courtesy. She doesn't even notice.

"Good news," she begins, tapping away on her tablet, "You and Toren rank as the second and third most valued tributes right now according to most polls. Titus, that volunteer from Six? He's first, which is unusual. But, of the Careers, you two are first, followed by...let's see...Mara in fourth, Sheen in sixth, and Thorn and Sasha are eighth and ninth respectively."

She looks up and gives me a nod. This is excellent news. If I'm a favorite, that will make winning much easier. But that Titus is a surprise. I guess the shock of a volunteer from a non-Career district covers his mediocre tribute parade.

I finish my meal quickly and give my plate to the Avox standing near. I yawn loudly.

"Go get your sleep." Scylla says after chewing a piece of pastry, "Training is tomorrow, and you will need to start impressing. You have done well today"

I pass by Toren in the hallway. We wish each other goodnight and collapse into my bed and go to sleep quickly.


	6. Chapter 05: The Career Alliance

I wake up and instantly try to cling to the sweet pleasures of dreams. The reality isn't much harsher though, as I am enveloped in layers of sheets and blankets. I am floating in comfort. Opening my eyes seems like a wretched curse. I am blissful of my surroundings.

But, it has to end sometime. A loud knock on the door ends my peaceful slumber.

I get up and belt out a large yawn. The sun is just beginning to rise just outside of my window. The Capitol looks beautiful today. Then again, when doesn't it?

As I wake up, I feel more and more excited for today. Today is training! The first time I will get to use weapons here. The first time to meet the other Careers and the first time to laugh at the weakness of the other tributes. I can't wait.

I decide to skip the shower because I took one last night. I take off my robe that I slept in and walk over to the closet. A small shirt is hanging right in front. I take it out and put it on. The blue and gray waves of color ripple as I put it on, blocked only by a simple black "4" that adorns the front. I smile. Alexis' work is starting to make a trend.

After donning a pair of black athletic pants, I make my way to the dining table for a quick breakfast. Scylla, Jet and Toren and already there, just like yesterday morning. This time Toren has waited for me. He's wearing the exact same outfit as I am. I can't help notice that the blue matches Toren's eyes.

We both grab plates from the Avox boy standing near and start helping ourselves. This time it is a different breakfast, with even more meats and spreads and pastries and waffles and breads and bagels and eggs than before. While I start scooping some omelettes onto my plate, Jet talks strategy.

"Okay, right now, the standings are roughly the same as before. You two are the most sought-after tributes. However, as you know, sponsors rarely donate until the day before the Games. They need to know how you do in interviews and what your training score is before they invest in you. Those Gaiuses were the exception. Oh, and they both sponsored you, which is enough for maybe a medium sized mealor a water bottle. Not that much, considering you will have to space it out over the entire Games."

"I think what he's trying to say," interjects Scylla as we both sit down and start to eat, "Is that you need to maintain your buzz throughout your time here in the Capitol if you want to get parachutes during the Games"

Toren stops chewing some sausage and says, "So, then, what exactly should we do in training?"

Scylla responds, "Your real training is done; you've been doing it all your lives. But here, you should focus on meeting the tributes. Learn their strengths, skills, weaknesses, alliances. Pay attention to people like Titus and those kids from 11; they might pose a threat."

"And it wouldn't hurt to learn some new skills. Try hunting or healing. Learn what edible plants look like. Construct some fires. The biggest fault of the Careers is that they don't last long without food and shelter." says Jet.

I take this information in. Aside from my excellent accuracy with throwing weapons, knives primarily, I have a few other skills. I ranked second at the Academy for speed and first in agility. But I have very little experience surviving in the wild. It is a little frustrating that I can't show off my skills, but their ideas make sense. I'm more likely to lose because of the arena than because of the tributes.

Scylla and Jet continue to lecture us about training. Aside from the obvious, allying with the Careers, we should also intimidate the other tributes. Jet continues, "Scare tactics work well. Stronger tributes will be afraid to attack you, even though they might have a chance of winning."

But most of all, we needed to know the competition. "Knowing things like a tribute's favorite weapon could save your life once the Games start." warns Scylla.

Okay. Intimidation. New skills. Alliances. Study the competition. Got it.

Scylla and Jet rush us to finish our breakfasts. We each shovel forkfuls of eggs into our mouths as fast as we can because apparently, we're late. We leave our plates and hurry to the elevator. Scylla and Jet follow us. "Good luck," says Scylla. Then she pushes the button and the door closes, leaving Toren and I alone.

The elevator whirrs silently as we descent four floors. We exchange brief looks before the door opens. In front of us lies the gymnasium in the basement of the training center. It has to be a few hundred feet long, with various cubes of different environments in them. Trainers stand by their stations, ready to teach healing, hunting, traps, fire-starting, and more. But the middle is where the majority of the equipment is. Agility courses, plastic dummies and various targets line the inside of the Training Center. And weapons. Tables and tables of weapons. It reminds me of the Academy.

My fingers start itching.

Toren and I walk over to the rest of the tributes, who have gathered before an imposing woman. Scylla told me her name is Atala. We're just in time because she begins to lecture about what the stations are and what they teach. She tells us that tributes are forbidden from fighting. "But above all, don't ignore the survival skills." She rattles off a list of statistics about how tributes lose the Games and how we should avoid all that.

She says nothing I don't already know.

I stand tall and put a scowl on my face to appear tough. I glare in her direction and make side glances at my competition. The other four Careers are grouped right behind me. I already know a bit about them. Other than that though, a few people jump out at me as competition. The broad-shouldered girl from 11 looks strong. Titus from Six does as well. The two from District Seven are both pretty tall and look confident.

But there is no one that I think I couldn't take on in a fight. And they are several who look very weak. In particular, the boy from 3 looks like he's only twelve. And there are more who look like they will last minutes, if not seconds, in the arena.

I look up, at the huge balcony that overrides the Training Center. A dozen or so Gamemakers lounge around lazily. She let themselves be served by Avoxes as they chat and write down notes on tablets. Behind them, on a huge screen, is a giant list of all 24 tributes. Our attributes, such as height, weight, and age, are listed next to our names and districts. The Gamemakers are going to watch and observe and rate us on our skills.

I need to impress them.

Atala finishes her spiel and lets us loose in the gym. Most of the tributes stand still and look uncertainly around at their possibilities. Mara leads the other three Careers to the weapons and they start to show off. But I've been specifically instructed not to do that. I turn to Toren and whisper, "What do you want to do? I think we should learn different skills."

"Yeah," he says, eyeing Mara as she practically juggles some axes with ease. "I'll take fires and you do edible plant finding. We'll meet at lunch and then practice with some weapons."

He looks around and begins to head for the fire-starting station. "Hey," I call after him, "What is your best weapon anyway?"

"Oh, you know." he says. I raise my eyebrow, but he merely shrugs and heads to his station.

With that vague response, I walk over to edible plants. It is a cube, about 50 yards squared that is filled with colorful plants, trees, and shrubs. Next to the instructor is are a few screens showing three dimensional diagrams of certain plants. I step up and introduce myself.

"Annie Cresta. I'm from-"

"District Four," he cuts in, "We don't see many Careers out here. How much do you know about finding edible plants and herbs?"  
I confess that my experience is very limited.

"Good thing you're here then." he says. He directs me to a large screen next to him and shows me how to use it. I tap on a plant and it shows me its use, features, shape, and color. I start scrolling through as my instructor goes to greet another tribute. Okay, Foxglove is poisonous. As is lily. Oak is safe, but not the ragwort. Katniss is edible...what kind of name is Katniss anyway?

I spend my time flicking through the lists, memorizing the look and components of each one. Some have edible roots but poisonous leaves. Some have edible fruit but deadly seeds. And don't even get me started on the fungi. Ugh, this is frustrating. Toren would be so much better at this.

At some point, another tribute comes to join me. Her shirt has an 11 on it. District Eleven: Agriculture. Her skin is the color of chocolate: a few shades lighter than Scylla's. Her hair is a curious mix of blondes and browns that swirls into a caramel-like hue. She doesn't look at me, just at the screen in front of her. Whenever I hesitate, she flies through the questions. Her eyes soak up the information about the plants. I realize that she probably already knows the material, and is just quizzing herself. She pauses slightly on only some extremely exotic plants. And while my fingers fumble for the correct button, hers finds it quickly.

She finishes her simulation with a score of 483 out of 500. I'm not even halfway done.

"Nice job," I say, "Do you do this in District 11 often?"

She exits the simulation on the tablet and turns to me, "Why do you want to know? You're a Career." She gives a glare and then walks away.

I scowl in her direction. She'll be the first one I kill.

I struggle with the station for another hour or two. If this was the Games, I would only have died a few times. After finishing up the tablet with a score of 389, I start touring the greenery behind the trainer. I focus on finding the edible plants and disregarding the other ones. After seven or eight tries, I have mastered the art of finding ten edible plants and one poisonous one that I almost eat.

I can tell the instructor is starting to get frustrated with me. Luckily, I get a break because it is time for lunch. I leave the station, still thinking about all of the plants and mushrooms and roots and shrubs that I've been practicing for so long.

I join Toren as we walk to the dining room adjacent to the gym. We both grab plates and some food. I'm too tired to really care what it is. Some chicken and some vegetables I guess. As we stand together and look around the small room, I debate where to sit.

"So," I say, trying to kill time, "how was the fire?"

"Adequate. I average about twenty minutes to make fire now." he says. He eyeballs the room. Most of the tributes stand around uncomfortably and are uncertain where to sit. A bunch of them look scared of the other tributes. The Careers and sitting down at table and everyone else makes a wide gap to avoid them.

Not Toren. He inevitably walks right up to them and sits down. I follow him unhappily. This feels like the awkward first day of school where no one knew where to sit. At least I know Toren.

So, we arrive at the Career table. Mara is in the middle of telling a joke. The others laugh. No, not because the joke is funny, but because they're afraid of what will happen if they don't laugh; they're afraid of her.

Okay fine, the joke was funny. But that's not the reason they laughed!

It's silence when we sit down. While they have been getting to know each other for hours, we've just come in. Toren tries to break the ice.

"Hello. I'm Toren and this is Annie. We're Four."

They all nod. A huge boy sticks out his hand and Toren takes it. "Thorn, from Two." he says. "This is Sasha, Sheen, and I think you've already met Mara."

I nod at her. The other two tributes shake my hand. Sheen is an insanely buff tribute from One with a brown hair crew cut. His biceps seem to bulge obnoxiously as he scoops potatoes into his mouth. Sasha is a smaller Career, still bigger than me, with long blonde hair. She eats with her head down and looks a little out of place with all of these confident warriors.

Thorn and Mara start talking and laughing, so Toren and I turn to Sasha and Sheen.

"What type of academy do you have in One or Two?" I ask politely.

Sasha bows her head a little, but Sheen jumps right in, "We have a few private schools that teach fighting as well other things. If we have a certain preference for the fighting we are taken away when we are eight to train to be tributes. Then, the first two to volunteer get in the Games." He starts picking at his hamburger.

Sasha mumbles something about survival training. "What?" I say. She looks at for a second, but then Thorn answers me instead.

"We had fighting and survival techniques taught about six times a week. Eventually, they picked the two they thought were the best and then here we are." He smile broadly at Sasha. "It was pretty stressful because they tell us who should volunteer the day of the Hunger Games. I've only known I would be a tribute for less than two days."

He leans over to Toren and whispers something in his ear. What is he saying?

Distracted, I almost miss the boy standing right behind Mara. Which is hard, because he's not the type of person you would miss all that often. His shock of black hair matches his equally black eyes. He has a few twitches in his face, and his tray trembles slightly as he holds it. His eyes dart anxiously about, as if trying to look for danger.

I realize that the meat on the hamburger is almost completely raw.

He announces loudly, "Hello."

All six of us stop talking at the same time. Mara whips her red hair around to see him and then promptly stands up. She probably regrets it though, because he is one of the tallest tributes. I remember him. He's Titus; more people are betting on him than anyone else.

So Mara and Titus stand right in front of each other and try to stare the other one down. Mara knows he's a threat.

"I just," Titus says, before clearing his throat, "I mean, I just wanted to ask if I could sit with you."

No, he's not. This isn't just a plea to sit with us, it's a request to join our alliance.

Toren and I trade looks immediately. Should we?

Mara answers our question pretty quickly. "No."

"C'mon, I'm a volunteer just like all-"

"No." says Mara.

"Wait, now," says Toren, as he stands up too, "Titus, why should we trust you?"

"I've wanted to be in the Hunger Games ever sinc-"

"For crying out loud!" exclaims Mara, "He's from Six! When was the last victor from Six? Forty years ago?"

"You all know that I'm competition in these-"

"But-"

"In these Hunger Games," says Titus, trying to ignore Mara, "And I'd rather fight with you than against you. We'll last longer together."

Mara's nostrils flare, "I think we can make it far enough without you, thank you very much."

Titus tries to say something else, but Toren says, "Just go. You don't want to make it worse for yourself."

I can tell that Titus doesn't want to leave, but he does. He picks up his tray and tries to walk away with as much dignity as he can muster. "Hey," calls Mara, "You should watch your back in the bloodbath." She winks at him.

Props to Titus for not looking afraid. A direct threat from the largest and best alliance in a fight for survival would scare the willies out of most people. But not Titus. "Likewise," he says to Mara.

He sits down at a table with the boy from District 3, who looks frightened and slides away slowly. Titus stabs his food and shoves it into his mouth forcefully. He doesn't look at us once.

Thorn turns to Mara and looks a little miffed, "Why'd you have to do that? Now we have an enemy already!"

"I don't care. He can't beat us." Mara shoves a forkful of potatoes into her mouth.

"Okay, whatever. I guess we'll have to deal with him in the bloodbath." says Toren.

"We can cross that bridge when we get to it. I'm not going to ally with someone from another District." says Mara.

"Why?" I hotly retort, "We don't know anything about him." Toren nods in my defense.

Mara starts to see that she's being outnumbered. "Fine go ahead and ally with him if you want!"

I hesitate. I really don't want to ally with Titus. But it irks me that Mara just gets to decide everything that affects the Careers.

When neither Toren, Thorn, or I go over to Titus, Mara knows that she's won.

We eat the rest of the meal in silence.

…...

Toren and I walk to the gym after finishing lunch. We'd just separated ourselves from an awkward meal and all the Careers are going to different parts of the gym. "Want to handle some weapons?" he asks.

A grin spreads across my face. "I've been waiting all day."

Time to demonstrate my skills.

We both head over to the weapons racks. Rows and rows of weapons. I pass by swords and spears and tridents. And then there are the stranger ones. Maces, Nunchaku and others. And then the smaller weapons. And my favorite: throwing knives.

I greet them like a lost friend. I trace my fingers over the blades of one of them. It's dainty, almost fragile. But it is most certainly deadly. I feel like I've been missing them for too long. The days before the reaping have no training, just coaching for what to experience in the Capitol. I haven't touched a knife in over two weeks.

I grab several different types of knives and walk out to the targets. Just the touch of it in my hands makes me feel more alive.

Toren is hacking away at a dummy with an ax. "Having fun?" I ask him.

"Yeah," he tries to chop off the head but comically fails. He tries again and this time the head hits the ground. "I'm a little out of practice."

"Let's go over here, in the middle." I say. The weapon racks are blocking our view of the rest of the tributes as well as the Gamemakers. And that is the whole point of using weapons: intimidation.

In the middle of the gym, I take aim at a few targets. Toren goes a few feet to my left to switch out weapons.

I stand a hundred feet from the row of targets. I press the button to my left and the circular targets start to move. Slowly at first, and then frantically. The simulation is trying to mirror the chaos of the bloodbath, in which the goal is to kill as many as possible as quickly as possible. Dozens of targets move on tracks in varying speeds and directions. To make it harder, some of the targets are green, signifying an ally. The goal is to hit as many plain targets without any of the green marks.

The countdown begins and I start. I start to fire my weapons with deadly accuracy. Step forward with one foot. Focus on the target. Angle arm behind the head. Aim for the bull's eye. Step forward and release the knife with thrust. Watch it spin through the air like a pinwheel. It hits the target and a flood of pride and adrenaline flows through my veins.

Knife after knife. Hit after hit. Nine times out of ten it hits the mark. And only once did I hit an ally.

God, have I missed this.

I go through a few runs and finish with high scores across the board. I grab a towel from an Avox and dry my wet forehead. I rotate my shoulders and massage my wrist. It sure is stressful. I plan on taking a five minute break and then start working on my left throwing arm. My muscles feel tired and I'm aching all over but I feel too good to stop.

As I'm drinking some water and sitting on a bench, Toren comes up to me with a bow. "Nice job."

"Thanks," I say. "Care to beat my score?"

He laughs. "No, no. I still need to get back into practice." He loads his bow and takes aim at the motionless targets. After a moment's concentration he lets go of the string and the arrow flies out. It misses.

"See? I'm way out of my league here."

A thought crosses my mind. "What did Thorn whisper in your ear?"

"What?" Toren loads another arrow and shoots. It misses again, but this time a little closer.

"At lunch. Thorn whispered something to you before Titus showed up."

"Oh. He just wanted to tell me about Sasha. You remember when he said that they choose the two tributes the day of the reaping and not a month before like in District 4?" I nod. I still remember when they announced my and Toren's names. One of the best moments of my life. It must be stressful to have to wait until the reaping to find out who was chosen.

"Well," he says, coming closer to me, "Apparently, Sasha wasn't ready."

"What do you mean? Like, she hadn't trained?"

"No. She is as physically capable as any Career, but she never expected to be picked. She volunteered with Thorn, like expected. She barely had time to say goodbye before she was on the train. Thorn noticed she's been feeling depressed and scared her whole time here."

I think about this. Fear breeds weakness, and there is no room for weakness in a Career alliance. "Should we even ally with her? Do you think that she will kill people?"

"No, I'm sure she'll kill, just like any of us, but I'm just concerned th-"

"Concerned about what?" Mara steps forward. I realize that Toren and I are whispering and sitting close together. We must look like we're plotting something.

"Nothing," says Toren as he stands up, still gripping the bow.  
Mara doesn't look convinced, but thankfully she lets the subject drop. "I saw you with those knives earlier," I realize she's talking about me. "Really nice accuracy."

I blush a little. I feel a surge of pride and then suppress it, remembering that I don't care what she thinks.

"What about you?" Mara asks Toren. "What is your skill?"

Toren holds out the bow and quiver.

Mara laughs out loud when she sees the arrows that missed the targets. "I thought that was just some random weakling tribute and not a Career. Are you serious?"

Toren nods. "I haven't been practicing that much-"

"Practice? This has nothing to do with practice. Here." And with that, Mara takes the bow and quiver right from Toren's hands. She takes out an arrow and promptly loads, aims, and fires. Bull's eye. The arrow hits the exact target that Toren missed twice, and she barely even looked at it.

"Okay, Mara. I don't think there is any need for that." I say as I stand up to defend Toren.

"No need? If we all die because he can't fire one of the most basic weapons then-"

"I think the real question here is whether or not we all die because we didn't let an obvious threat into our alliance where we could keep an eye on him." I say.

"Titus? Are you still on that? Fine, I'll kill him in the bloodbath."

Toren steps in front of me, "Annie, we're going to have to ally with her, just-"

I push past him and step right in front of Mara's gleaming eyes. "I think the real reason you're making fun of Toren is because we're higher ranked than you are. And you just know that you can't beat us. Ever."

"Annie!" says Toren.

For a second it looks like Mara is going to hit me or stab me, and I know I've struck a nerve. Anger flashes across her eyes and she leans forward. I don't back down.

Then, she reels in. In a hoarse whisper, she says, "Rankings won't matter in the arena. Sponsors won't matter. All that matters," she leans in closer, "is strength. And if I was in your shoes, I wouldn't cross me. Because I know that I wouldn't be able to win."

She backs away slowly and tosses the bow and arrows back at Toren. "Good luck with your alliance" she says before leaving.

Toren looks at me with a mixture of anger and amazement. "Looks like we've made our first enemy."

Yes we have. And she just so happens to be the one person in this entire gym whom I'm not confident I can beat.

The odds are certainly not in my favor...

Thank you for reading this far! I'd REALLY appreciate it if those of you who have been reading along so far to review, follow, and favorite. Please give me some feedback as well. Also, there is a poll in my profile concerning this fanfic that you might like! Next chapter will be up within the week.


	7. Chapter 06: Repairing Broken Ties

"What is the matter with you?!" Scylla exclaims over dinner after I tell her what happened at training. She grabs her knife and bangs it against the table with every word. "What" BANG "on" BANG "Earth" BANG "were" BANG "you" BANG "thinking?!"

I look down at my plate. "I'm...I'm sorry" I mumble.

"Sorry? Sorry?! No, you're not sorry. You WILL be sorry when you're dying of hunger with no allies to help you."

"Scylla..." Jet begins.

"No. If my tribute fails it looks bad on all of us." Scylla says as she stabs her chicken angrily.

"Yeah, well I'm not too happy about it either Scylla!" I shout. I've regretted my outburst at Mara ever since training, a few hours ago. Now, the entire Career alliance save Toren has been avoiding me.

"What exactly did she say?" she demands.

"Something like...good luck with your allies." I mutter.

She throws her hands in the air out of exasperation, "Of course! She's done with you. Done. The first District 4 tribute I've ever coached-heck, probably the first one in decades- who isn't in an alliance. I hope you know that your odds are miniscule now." She seems more concerned with her reputation as a mentor than with my chances of winning.

I bow my head and let my black hair curtain around my face. I am too humiliated to look up.

"And you!" Scylla points her fork at Toren, "You can't even hit a target with a bow and arrow? Mara was right to-"

"Scylla! Enough!" Jet warns, raising his voice. Scylla leans back after a moment and "Now, how about we finish dinner, and then go over to Cashmere's place to try and work this through."

Scylla and Jet both relax a little. I pick at my peas. I am sick of being treated like a child. Alliance or not, I still have what it takes to win these Games. No matter what.

"How are our standing right now?" Toren asks after an awkward pause.  
` "There's really no change," says Jet, "It rarely does between the parade and the training scores. We'll need to talk about that later; how you should approach the training sessions."

Scylla excuses herself from the table and grabs a cell phone and begins dialing a number. "I'm going to try and fix this for you. At least it's not my life on the line here." She leaves the room with the phone to her ear.

I gulp a little. "So...uh...should we keep our same strategy for the training?"

Jet swallows some soup before saying, "Yeah, just keep that up."

Another awkward silence. There's really nothing more that needs to be said. I pick at my food for another few minutes before I realize that I'm not hungry. I excuse myself and leave.

Back in my room I flop on my bed and bury my head in my hands. How could I be so stupid! I wish I was like Toren. He always knew how to handle things like this. Ugh! Why did I do that?

There's a knock on my door. I sit up and try to appear calm. "Come in," I say.

The door opens slowly and Toren peaks his head through the crack. "I just wanted to tell you that it meant a lot. What you did earlier. With Mara." he looks a little uncomfortable, "I just wanted to say thanks."

He pauses before leaving, as if about to say something more. But he just shakes his head and leaves right after closing the door.

I decide to go to sleep early. The luxury of the Capitol and the majestic skyline don't appeal to me anymore. I change quickly into some pajamas and turn off the lights. I pause at the window, looking at the sunset. I try to think how many I have left. There's tonight, two more days of training, and then the ones before the Games start. And then that could very well be it.

No. Don't think like that. I will win. I am going to win.

I repeat this mantra to myself as I climb into the bed. I will win. I will win. I lose myself in the comfortable down sheets and try to clear my head. I will win. I am going to win. I am going to win. I will win. I...will...

…...

The next day lasts painfully long. I shower and put on my clothes. I take a lot of time trying to let the hot water wash away my troubles. I stand there and let the steam ease over my body. I close my eyes and try to feel a little optimism.

It doesn't work.

When I am forced to leave my room and enter the dining room, Scylla just tells me that Cashmere didn't say anything about Mara. Breakfast goes by quickly. Toren and I both shove food down our gullets as fast as possible. In the elevator I brace myself for the gym.

When the door opens, all the tributes look at us. But none of the Careers so much as glance at us the whole day. Mara sure has got them wrapped around her finger. They keep an awkward distance from me and don't look me in the eye. I guess this is what it feels like to have no alliance.

The day passes slowly, like the Gamemakers are already messing with us in their painful trap of the Games. Except this time, I'm their only target.

I continue following Scylla's advice, for all the good it will do. I learn basic snares. Hunting. I try my hand at camouflage but decide it's too useless and pathetic as a skill. I mean, it would only be helpful if the arena is a giant cake or something!

Finally, after hours and hours of avoiding everyone, training ends and we head back to our rooms. It's not much better there. No updates about betting or sponsoring and Cashmere responded saying that she can't influence Mara. I guess that's it then. No alliance for me.

The next day, Toren and I go our separate ways, just like yesterday. I head over to various stations. Mara and the other three Careers are dominating the weapons section. And even though throwing sharp things around would make me feel better, it would just make the situation worse.

After setting a few fires, I see Thorn and Toren laughing and talking by the intelligence station. Having nothing better to do, because I was hopeless at making fires and my ally Toren was excellent, I walked on over.

Thorn is just finishing up a test. The station is composed entirely of a large touchscreen that posed various intelligence games and tests. The score would be presented at the end. Thorn ends his test by solving a complex puzzle game that involves different colors of blocks that must be combined to form varying shapes. There are some other rules that I don't understand. When Thorn drags over a large yellow one to finish the puzzle, the simulation ends and it replaced by a single number.

"Your score is...93." The computer beeps out.

I have no idea how good that is, because I've never done it before. Thorn looks please, and Toren looks impressed. "Okay, my turn," says Toren as he takes command of the simulation.

Thorn steps away and rubs his hand on his head. "Is that a high score?" I ask him.

"Yeah," he says, "Yeah it is." He looks humble about it, and a little surprised. I realize that this is the first time someone from the Career alliance has actually talked to me since Mara kicked me out.

"What's it out of?" I say, trying to keep him talking.

"Well, I'm pretty sure that each test is 20 points and they add up for a total-"

"Can I come back in the alliance?" I blurt out. I cover my mouth with my hands. "Sorry. Sorry. I just-I just..."

"It's okay." He says, "Mara has been acting weirdly about you since the first day of training. She told us that we can't talk to you."

"I guessed as much." I look at Toren, who is still deeply involved in the test. "Toren too?"

"No. Just you. Guess it makes you special."

I shrug. "Guess so."

"Hey, can I ask you something?" I nod. "What did you do to her to get her so angry?"

I squirm uncomfortably. "I insulted her and said that I could beat her in the Games. Then she got angry and kicked me out."

Toren laughs a little. And then some more. He covers his mouth and says, "I'm sorry, it's not funny. It's life or death. I just imagined something...worse. I thought you spit at her or attacked her or tried to kill her or something."

"I almost did." I say. "I guess she has some problems."

"Oh, I know she does." Thorn confesses. "Brutus told me all about it because he knows her parents. Mara was adopted for the sole purpose of her becoming a tribute. They wanted the glory, you see. They gave her a special trainer and everything. They promised she could be part of their real family if she won."

He looks around to see if Mara is nearby. After seeing she wasn't, he leans in closer, "Between you and me? She's always been different because of what happened. She's more obsessed with training than any of us."

I'm stunned. I had a hard upbringing, because my family wanted a victor, but at least I had one. I wasn't bought by someone just to make them more famous one day. I came home from training to my parents who were actually proud. I can tell why she's insecure.

Thorn can tell that I never knew this. "Hey, I'll try to change her mind at lunch, okay?"

"Yes, thank you!" I breathe out heavily. Yes. I need to get back into that alliance. "Thank you so much."

Thorn says goodbye to Toren and then walks away. "Toren, did you hear that?"

"What?" He says, as he starts matching up different pairs of symbols with each other. "Huh?"

"Oh nevermind." I say. I am in such a better mood now. "Here let me help you."

The simulation is a fast paced matching game. Different black symbols appear on the white screen and we have to match two of them. I'm not sure that the game is designed for two people, but who cares? Intelligence is not a skill required to win.

Toren and my fingers fly over the touchscreen, trying to match as many as possible. Tree, leaf, alpha, circle, oval, flag, triangle, hovercraft. I scan each one, and hover my eyes over as many as possible. After a little time of bumping elbows and getting in each other's way, we establish a sort of rhythm. Our hands reach out for the symbols in a sort of tandem, each knowing exactly where the other is. My mind is connected to his and we both know, instinctively, where to go. It's kind of beautiful.

Then, after pressing two clocks down at the same time, the game ends. The number 89 pops up on screen.

"89? With both of us working together?" I exclaim.

"Thorn got a 93. Are we bad or is he just amazing?" says Toren.

"I think he's just really, really smart." I say. "We were going so quickly!" Our 89 on screen seems to be taunting us with its smallness.

Toren and I break for lunch. After we get our trays from the line, I anxiously try to kill time by taking forever to get our food. I scoop some peas onto my plate one by one. "What are you doing?" mutters Toren.

"I'm-" I say. I'm stalling for time. Still not sure if Mara will accept me back. "Screw this." I put down the ladle for some soup I've been pouring and walk to the Careers.

Mara looks up as we approach and stands up instantly. "What do you want?" she says.

"Mara, sit down." says Thorn. "It's cool. They can come."

"I don't think that they deserve-"

"It's not about what they deserve, Mara. They've trained too. We need their numbers."

"And I'm the only one here who can use throwing knives." I say. I think she's going to cave. She may be our self-appointed leader, but she has to listen to us.

"Sasha, Sheen?" Mara says.

Sheen says that it's fine and Sasha just nods.

Mara has no choice but to let us in. "Fine. Sit there." she says.

I try to contain my excitement. Finally, I am back into the Career alliance. The one that wins almost every year.

"We were just talking about our strategy for the bloodbath," says Sheen. "Gloss told me that we should each have our own weapon to claim. Because sometimes, there is only one of each."

"Bows!" say Toren and Mara at the same time. They both glare at each other.

"Toren." I warn. Toren looks at me and then at Mara. I can see gears turning behind his eyes.

"I'll take tridents." he says unhappily. "Mara can have the bows. Whatever."

Mara looks pleased with herself. "Sasha?"

Sasha claims knives.

"But I get any throwing knives." I say, making sure I get my best weapon.

"Fine. Sheen?"

"I'll take either swords or spears. Thorn, what do you want?"

Thorn considers it in his head. "Umm...Swords. If that's okay with you of course."

"Yeah. That's fine. I'll be spears and javelins then." says Sheen.

"Well that's settled. Okay, so we need specific targets for the bloodbath." says Mara.

Almost every time, the Career alliance will stay and take the Cornucopia. We will kill as many others as possible and then divide the spoils amongst ourselves. It's a basic strategy that works well.

"I think Titus is a threat." says Sheen.

"Him? He has no allies and is not that big." Mara laughs. "I mean look at him!"

All six of us turn in our chairs and stare at Titus who is sitting by himself with some steak. His head is resting on his fist as he lazily eats. He scans the room around him and looks at other tributes. I swear, he even licked his lips once.

"Okay, he might not look it, but he did volunteer. And he wanted to join us, so that means he thinks he's competiton." defends Sheen.

"There's a difference between thinking you're competition and actually being it." argues Thorn.

"Okay. Fine. I still think we should take him out." says Sheen.

"Who should do it?" says Mara. "What's his weapon?"

"Spears." comments Sasha. "I've seen him use them. He's pretty accurate."

"Okay, I'll take him. I'll get to the spears first and then kill him before he does." says Sheen.

"But what about the tributes who won't be going for the weapons?" says Toren. "How will we get them?"

"I don't think that they are competition." says Mara. "We should focus on the ones who can use weapons."  
"No." I say. I don't want to disrupt anything when my presence here is still new, but I have to say this. "I mean, no, we should kill them too. The ones who don't take weapons are the ones that know how to survive. They can evade us, and they can possibly outlast us."

"Not to mention that we have no idea what the arena is, and sometimes our greatest threats are the ones we can't find." says Toren.

"Okay. Annie and I are the ones with long-distance weapons. We'll rush in, grab our bows and knives and then go to the edges of the Cornucopia and try to prevent anyone from escaping. Your four should target specific people." says Mara.

It feels nice to know that I have that responsibility. I try to hide a smile by blowing on some soup.

Thorn says, "We should wait until training scores to pick them out. That way, we know who our biggest competition is."

The training sessions are today. I haven't even thought about that. I have been too busy with my alliance that I hadn't thought about that single number that will determine how many sponsors I will get.

We keep eating lunch and discussing various tributes. We points some out to each other and what their strengths are. It's comforting, to know who the competition is. In the entire room, there are only four or five who are actual threats. All I really have to worry about is the other Careers.

Then, lunch is over and we head back over to the weapons. I delight in practicing my knives again. Sheen gives me a short lesson on spears until we both realize I'm no good. Toren is still struggling to shoot straight. How come he's even in the Capitol? Why was he chosen?

After I work up a good sweat and feel my heart pound, I realize that the tributes are starting to get ready for the individual training sessions. Mara calls us to a halt and we all stop. She wishes us good luck as we pass by.

The tributes are gathering in a circle. Time for my training session. Perhaps the single most important moment outside of the arena. This is it. Time to show them what I'm capable of.

I can do this.

* * *

**To the few of you who are reading this through and through, thank you! The next chapter could take a while, because I am going to be working on my other chapters with my betas. Please review and favorite! Reviews are make a writer write! Comment with your thoughts and opinions on characters. Again, thank you for reading!**


	8. Chapter 07: The Gamemakers

The tributes gather inside the dining room for our private sessions. We each have only fifteen minutes to show the Gamemakers what we can do. In District Four, the Academy helps us prepare by giving us tests to give us a feel for what it will be. I have an entire strategy all planned out.

Mara is called first and she walks out of the room. That leaves twenty three still standing. Most of them sit in silence and look around nervously. The Careers are focused and determined. I'm sure they are rehearsing what they need to do. I sit next to Toren, who has his brow furrowed.

"What are you going to do?" I ask Toren.

He pauses a moment. "To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. I had a plan in mind. I guess I'll just improvise. There are certainly enough weapons for me to play with."

I think back to how he has struggled with archery the past three days. Archery is supposed his best weapon. I am starting to doubt how well he might perform.

My attention rattles when I see Sheen leave the room. Twenty two more.

"You?" Toren asks politely.

"Just knives. I'm debating about whether or not to demonstrate some survival skills." I say.

"Do it. It will make you seem more versatile." Toren advises.

"But what though? Plant finding will be a little anticlimactic after weaponry." I counter.

"How quickly can you make a fire?"

"Not under 15 minutes."

"Well, maybe just try snares. They will make you seem able to find food and other tributes as well."

"Okay, I'll do that." I say. The time passes quickly. Sasha rises to go, and then Thorn, who leaves confidently. Jasmine is next, and she looks equal parts terrified and prepared. Then the miniscule District 3 boy goes. And then, my name is called.

I stand up and slowly make my way to the dining room doorway. "Good luck." says Toren. I turn my head to acknowledge him and then push through the doors into the Training Center.

The gym is the same as before, but it looks different now, with no people. The stations and the weapons are alive with possibilities.

Toren suggested snares, and I agreed with him. I had an idea about how to tie in snares with the knife throwing, but I don't know if I can accomplish it in 15 minutes. I get to work.

I walk quickly over to the snares and begin tying knots. Okay, loop it around here, tie this together, string in another one. A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead as I try to remember how it goes. I finish it and move on to the next one. No time to check my progress.

As I work, I look over my shoulder and observe the Gamemakers who are observing me. Or, supposed to be observing me. They are just eating and drinking. I'm not too concerned, because I'm just doing preparation at this point.

I finish the three traps and place them in the right place. Then, I take three dummies and anchor them right in front of the snares. I walk over to the weapons rack and take an entire row of throwing knives. After a brief moment's concentration, I take a small ax with me.

I place myself in the center of the accuracy simulation and lay my weapons down on a table next to me. I turn to the Gamemakers.

"Annie Cresta. District Four." I announce loudly. They all turn to me. Head Gamemaker Maximus waves away an Avox serving food and stares at me intently. He prepares a note sheet and starts writing things down.

Okay this is it. All eyes on me. Most important moment before the Games begin. I swallow a quelled burst of nerves and initiate the simulation before I let them get the better of me. The targets take a few seconds to warm up and then they start to move. I grip the first knife in my hand until my knuckles turn white.

Then the targets start rolling out. They move in sporadic directions and take evasive measures. My nerves stop instantly. My left hand feeds my right knife after knife. I throw with a deadly accuracy. I fall into a pattern of throwing. Throwing and hitting targets. Since the targets are around me in three hundred sixty degrees, I am constantly moving and swerving and pivoting to get them. I almost never miss.

The simulation ends. Only four of the original hundred targets still remain. With the targets down. I take two of the knives in either hand and whip them both at my dummies at the same time. They both hit them in the chest: an instant kill. To further to casualty, the dummies fall backward into my snares. The ropes hook them up by their ankles instantly. To finish, I grip the ax in my right hand and whip it as fast as I can at the third dummy. It scrapes the arm, which is far from a kill shot.

Hmm. A miss, but a close one. A sour way to end an almost perfect run.

I turn around to the Gamemakers and bow. I wait for their dismissal.

Gamemaker Maximus confers with some other Gamemakers for a moment. "Tribute. Will you demonstrate your strength please?"

"Um...what?" I have never heard of the Gamemakers asking for something like this.

"Your strength. Please go to the weights and demonstrate your strength." He points to the weight lifting station.

And if I refuse? I bite my tongue to keep that comment from slipping out. This isn't fair. I've never practiced strength before; I've had no need to.

I slowly walk over to the weight machines and try to stop myself from panicking. Breathe in. Breathe out. This is something normal. Nothing to worry about.

I arrive at the weights and take a moment to pick one out. 10 pounds. Seems reasonable. I lift it with my hands an awkwardly do a few squats. Okay...what else? I take some heavy sacks of sand and heave one on my shoulder. Instantly I feel the pressure of it bearing on me. I step forward and shove it off my shoulder. It thuds to the ground about two feet away. I sign in exhaustion.

For all of my effort, I still didn't demonstrate much strength. I look around for another thing to do when I hear the Gamemaker's voice behind me: "That will be all; thank you."

I turn to them and bow deeply. I exit the room, but not before looking behind me. The Gamemakers are talking. They don't look happy.

I emerge into the elevator and press the button for Four. I pace as the elevator ascends.

Inside my quarters, Scylla and Jet are waiting. I tell them what happened. I skip the part where I had to lift weights. They tell me I have the night off until the training scores.

When i finally get to my quarters I allow myself some rest to determine what happened. Is it common for Gamemakers to specifically ask for a skill? I've never heard of it before. But, then again, I've never been a tribute before. I don't know exactly how this goes.

Toren enters my room as I'm mulling it over. "How did it go?" he asks.

"Pretty good. You?"

He shrugs. "Decent."

"I tried your snares idea. I think it payed off." I say.

"Good. Hey, Jet just told me we can do whatever we want until dinner. Want to do something?" Toren comes over and sits on the bed.

"Okay...? What can we do?" I say.

"Well for starters, we can use the TV to watch some Capitol channels. Not that bad propaganda we get in Four. This is the good stuff." He grabs the remote and presses some buttons.  
My window is replaced by channels and channels or programming. "Any preferences?"

I shake my head. It's nice to lose myself in something other than the Hunger Games for a brief spell.

Then the Hunger Games channel comes on.

Caesar is in the midst of predicting the scores for the tributes. "Now you see here, this Sheen. He's big and tough. I'm betting on a high one for him, perhaps the highest for the Careers. District One tributes are typically both very good so I'm expect-"

I groan. "Toren, can you change it? Please?"

I can tell he wants to see this, but he changes the channel after a second. The image of the Capitol man is replaced by a fashion show. not exactly my style, but I couldn't care less at this point.

"Thanks."

For the next hour or so, I watch the ridiculous trending clothes of the Capitol. Not quality entertainment or anything. But I need a small break from the stress of the Games. Deciding which tributes to kill, who to avoid, who are my allies, who are my enemies...it's just too much sometimes.

After watching this for a little while, I can tell Toren is starting to get bored. I take the remote and click it off. "So, how did your training session go?"

"I think you already asked me that."

"You weren't very specific." I pointed out.

He laughs. "I guess I wasn't. Well, I started with spears, then archery, a logic puzzle, and then I started a fire. That was a mistake."

"The puzzle or the fire?"

"The fire. I couldn't do it. I tried for about five minutes until they told me to stop."

"Did they ask you to do anything in particular?" I ask.

He looks puzzled. "No. Why?"

"Not weight-lifting or anything?"

"No. But I made sure to demonstrate my strength by choosing the heaviest spears. Why?"

"Oh, nothing in particular. I'm just wondering if they care that much about it."

He swings his legs out from under him so he is sitting on the bed. "I doubt it. I mean, you insane with those daggers. Even Mara was scared at one point."

He can tell I don't look convinced, so he continues, "Don't worry. You'll do fine. I know it." He smiles and me and suddenly, I feel better.

"Okay?" He says.

"Okay."

At that exact moment, Jet walks in and knocks on the open door. "Time for dinner. The scores come in about half an hour."

Toren and I rush to the dining room to eat. Scylla is already lounging in the living room. Apparently she didn't wait for us.

I'm not really that hungry, but I still need to eat. Once I chug down some water and some bread, I feel a little better. I'm not a bundle of nerves anymore. Toren really helped me.

After we eat, we join Scylla in the living room. The TV is on, showing Caesar Flickerman. He's still predicting the scores. We still have about ten minutes to wait. I just want to know, for it to be over. Thankfully, he is just finishing discussing the District 12 tributes, since they were last.

I tune him to listen to what Scylla has to say. "A good score is between an eight and an eleven. Twelve is almost impossible, and to be realistic, you won't get it. But what matters is how you compare to the other tributes. If either of you is in the top two or three, then you'll be good."

Toren says, "What about the other Careers?"

"What about them?" Jet says.

"Well, how much better than them would be good?"

Jet says, "The best or second best typically get the best sponsors. But also remember this, you are all in an alliance. If you get a bad score, you will still get sponsors because you have the other mentors helping out as well."

Scylla says, "But still, getting a good score is very important for the home stretch of the Games when food begins to run out."

This is all very reassuring and all, but I am relieved when someone hands Caesar a piece of paper with the scores written on it. He stops commenting and gets ready to read.

This is it.

Caesar speaks very slowly and dramatically. "As you know, the tributes were rated on a score of one to twelve with twelve being the highest and one-"

Yeah, yeah yeah. Whatever. Get to the scores.

He finishes up his spiel and gets right to it. "District One." Pictures of Mara and Sheen pop up on the screen.

"Sheen from District One received a...nine."

Nine. Nine's good. Too good. I might, just might, be able to top that.

"Mara from District One received an...eleven." Caesar mulls over the word rather impressed.

I bite my tongue to stop myself from swearing. No way can I top that. I knew it was coming: Mara is exceptional competition. But it's hard to swallow.

I start to feel better once Sasha and Thorn's scores are announced. They both got 8s. I can beat Eights. If I can tie Sheen for a nine, I have good odds. A nine is not unreasonable. I mean, my accuracy was amazing in the session.

Then the District Three tributes roll out. Jasmine gets a six and the small boy, whose name is Dominic, gets a two. Wow, a two. Well, what do you expect? He's only twelve.

Then, District Four comes around. Toren and my face pop up and Caesar prepares to read the scores. I hug my knees to my chest in anticipation.

Caesar says, "Toren, from District Four, received a score of...10."  
Jet and Scylla don't cheer or anything. Jet flashes a quick smile and looks impressed, while Scylla merely writes something down in her notebook. Toren looks pleased. Really, really pleased.

He can tell I'm nervous, so he reaches out a hand to me. "You'll do great." he mouths at me. He pats me on the arm.

Even though he has no idea how I did, I still feel better. I stare into Caesar and try to predict my score. I'll be happy with anything above an 9. Then I'll have the third highest. Or maybe a nine. Yes, I'll gladly take a nine. Then, I will tie with Sheen for the third highest. Not too bad.

And then, even if I get a bad score, it won't matter much, because I'll still be in an alliance. But Scylla said that will make the end game tough. And it will be embarrassing to have a bad score. I'll take anything, as long as it's not the lowest score for the Careers.

"Annie Cresta, from District Four,"

Caesar! Hurry up! I need to know! I just need to know!

Caesar continues, "Annie, from Four, with a score of...-"

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED! **

**Comment with what score do you think she got.**


	9. Chapter 08: Mind Games

**Sorry, this chapter took so long; it's been hard finding time to write on vacation. Anyway, hope you like it! Please review and favorite as usual. Also, I recently became a beta, and I would be super happy to beta read anything my readers have. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

_"Annie Cresta, from District Four,"_

_Caesar! Hurry up! I need to know! I just need to know!_

_Caesar continues, "Annie, from Four, with a score of...-"_

"...with a score of seven..." Caesar says.

Seven. For a moment I can't comprehend this number. Okay, I got a seven. And then the full potency of its meaning hits me. Seven: the lowest score of the Careers. A seven will mark me as the weakest one. Potential sponsors will be turned away because of it.

I start to panic. Crap, this is bad. No, this is worse than bad.

After this sinks in for a minute, I see Toren looking at me in the corner of my eye. No, this can't be right. Panicking, I flee from the room.

Inside the dining room, I pace anxiously. Anger surges through me suddenly. Why the hell did those stupid Gamemakers have to make me show strength?!

My veins feel like they are being pumped with iron. My breathing is frenzied. I grab a plate and without even thinking about it, smash it against the counter.

My vision glazes over a little as I watch the pretty pieces of the white porcelain clatter to the ground. The perfect white smashes into the black tile. The loud noise waves through the room.

I look down at my hand and see a smear of red on my palm. A shard of the plate lies there. The gleaming red tip is enchanting.

I slide down the counter until my back is against the wall. I wrap my knees to my chest. My anger fades. Now I feel nothing but self-pity. And failure.

The door opens. I shout, "Scylla! I don't want to talk to you rig-...Toren?"

Toren closes the door. "Scylla's out doing damage control."

"That bad huh?"

"Yeah, I guess so." he admits. I appreciate that he's not holding anything back. Even I knew that a 7 is atrocious for a Career.

He slides down to sit next to me. "Want to talk about it?"

I turn away from him. "Not really."

I rub my fingers against the broken shards of the porcelain. I'm starting to regret that childish outburst. "So," I say trying to avoid cutting myself again. "Congrats on your score."

"Thank you." he says modestly. He's probably been expecting a ten. So was I. I don't hold him accountable or anything, but he is my competition. No! It's too hard to think of him as competition. His friendship is something I value.

"Annie, I know it seems really bad to get the lowest score-"

"Thanks for reminding me..." I grumpily say.

"Hey," he continues, playfully shoving me, "It's not that bad. Scores matter for the sponsors, but I guess we'll just have to put ourselves in a position where we won't need them."

Toren can tell I'm not convinced. "Now all we need to do is intimidate the others. I think we've got that covered. I mean, look at all of your muscles." He pinches my bicep. "You're buff!"

"Shut up!" I say, but without meaning it. Despite my best interests, he manages to coax a smile out of me.

"Here, I'll clean up this mess." He starts to sweep the shards into piles, "You get to bed."  
"Okay, I will." I say. I get up and walk towards the door. I pause as I grasp the handle. I turn to face him and I look him in the eye. "Thank you." I say. I mean it.

He nods at me. "My pleasure."

I turn away, but not before smiling at him while he cleans up my mess.

...

"Wake up!" Scylla yanks off my bed sheets and turns on the lights. "Time to practice for interviews."

I blearily rub my eyes and try to cover myself. "What time is it?" I mumble.

"Time to get started. Your sponsors are going to be put off unless you nail the interviews." she responds harshly.

Oh right. I got that seven in training. I had forgotten about it in my dreams. Great.

"You have ten minutes to get ready. I expect you in the dining room then." She takes one more look around the room before departing.

I take a shower quickly. I brush my teeth and wash my hands as quickly as possible. And then I rush into the dining room.

Scylla is waiting there with a bald man that I don't recognize. She says, "First things first. Yesterday I let you go without telling me your score. But now I need to know, what on earth did you do to cause it?"

I hesitate before telling her how the Gamemakers asked me to show strength. "Is that normal?" I ask.

"For them to ask for strength? No, but occasionally Gamemakers will demand a tribute to demonstrate a set of skills that they value more than others." Scylla says. "This is Maximus's first year as Head Gamemaker; so it might not affect anything at all really."

"Aside from the fact that sponsors will be less interested in me." I say.

"Right." Scylla says.

"Betting odds aren't that bad for you though." says the bald man. "Eleven percent of bettors are going for you. Mara and Toren both have fifteen, while Sheen has twelve. So, you're really not in that bad of a shape."

His face looks familiar. After a second, I know who it is. "Alexis? Is that you?"

She nods. "I'm trying to start a trend." Her head, which had previously been covered by green and purple hair, was now sleek with some sort of grease that made it shine. "How does it look?"

This crazy lady is my stylist, so I shouldn't upset her. "Um, it looks great!" I say as enthusiastically as possible.

She beams. "Thank you! I was thinking about it, because my best friend Chloe said I should just do it. I've wanted to do it for a while but I wasn't sure how it would look. Then she said that if it looked bad I could just get a wig to cover it up-"

"I think what Alexis is trying to say," Scylla says, flashing a glance at her, "Is that since today is the last full day we have with you before the Games, we are going to help you prep you. Jet is helping Toren, so it's just us."

Alexis takes some measuring tools from her pockets. Loads of them. I don't know where they all fit; she's so small. She starts to measure me in various ways. "It's for the interview dress." She explains.

I ask Scylla, "How were the other tributes' scores?"

She doesn't even need to check her tablet. Apparently, she has them memorized. "You already saw the Careers'. Other than that, the highest were from Titus and Holly. They got 8 and 7 respectively. Holly is the District 11 female tribute." she explains when she notices my confusion. I remember her. She is the one who I talked to at the edible plants station. My first instinct was right: she is a threat.

"So my betting odds aren't that bad?" I ask.

Scylla shakes her head. "They definitely dropped, but they're not terrible. If you can nail the interviews they will probably stay consistent. Then of course you will need to perform well in the actual Games."

I'm pretty confident about that. I still think I can take most of the tributes. If I can continue on my current path I will enter the arena with a powerful alliance with decent betting odds.

After taking the length from my neck to my chest, Alexis finishes her measurements. The next few hours are taken up by both of them teaching me how to act properly for the Capitol. It's more of a test actually. My parents back in Four told me everything on how to ace the interviews.

After they are pleased with my poise and charm, they move on to content.

"How long have you been training?"

"Are you confident?"

"Any word on how any alliances are forming up?"

"Are you satisfied with your training score?"

I answer every question easily. After all my years of training, it's like there is a switch I have in my brain. I turn it on and suddenly I am all charm and grace.

I don't stumble or hesitate until we get to my training score question. I open my mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I had never considered this question. I had always imagined my score to be much higher than it was.

In the next hour or two, Alexis and Scylla coach me for those difficult questions. If Caesar asks a question on my apparent weakness, such as my relatively poor score or my smaller size, I would answer mysteriously. That way, Scylla assured me, I would look as if I had several aces up my sleeves.

"Are you worried about any of the larger tributes?" Scylla asks me in her fake Capitol accent.

"Well Caesar, I'm not worried at all. Between you and me..." I turn away from the imaginary crowds and Lean in closer to Scylla. "_They _are the ones who should be worried."

"Good job." says Scylla, returning to her normal voice.

We practice a bit, and then break for lunch. I see Toren and Jet for the first time today. I wait for Toren to say something about yesterday, but he doesn't. He just nods and makes polite company.

Jet, Scylla, Toren, Alexis, and Marcus (a rather fat man with slick wavy hair) eat lunch with me. We all explain pleasantries, because not all of us are acquainted with each other. Then again, the people I DO consider myself acquainted with I've only known for a few days.

Alexis and Marcus leave after lunch. I don't know what we are doing next, and am confused further when Scylla leads me into another room with Toren or Jet.

"Now what?" I ask after I sit down on a sofa next to Toren.

"Now..." Scylla's voice trails off as she sets up a large projection screen. A large simulation pops up. "Now, your real training begins..."

Twenty three pictures appear on the screen. Various statistics and numbers fizzle in next to them.

I groan. I had heard stories about this. Career tributes would have to memorize their competition's information to better prepare them.

I peer closer to the screen. Each tribute's head shot is next to their score, a list of their strengths, their weaknesses, their weight, their height, their age, their betting odds, their name and possible allies. That is a lot of information.

"By the end of today you will have the list memorized. You will need to produce information such as a tribute's favorite weapon in an instant if you are to survive. We will begin now."

She passes out flashcards with the tributes on them. "Start learning." she barks at us.

The next few hours are agonizing. After studying the cards for thirty minutes, Jet and Scylla would quiz us on the information. It was a rapid-fire torture session.

Jet and Scylla took turns asking us random questions.

"What is Gloria's favorite weapon?"

"What is the boy from District Nine's name?"

"Who is Holly's main ally?"

The questions don't really stop. Toren's faring only slightly better than I am. I start making up random answers and hope that I get it right. Scylla and Jet get more and more aggressive the longer we go. At some point, Scylla and Jet give us a five minute break. They glare at us as they leave the room.

"Annie, you try and get the first six districts and I'll take the six after that." Toren says.

"Why?" I ask.

"If we split up the work and whisper the answers to each other we'll do better. Here, take these." He hands me the cards for six districts.

I discard District Four because I already know them. I scan Districts One and Two. I know their stats pretty well. I spend the next few minutes memorizing Districts 3, 5, and 6.

Scylla and Jet come back in. "Toren, who is the boy from Eleven allies with?"

"Holly?" Toren asks.

"Is that a question or an answer?" says Scylla sternly.

"Holly. It's Holly." Toren says more soundly.

Jet continues, "What is Chris's training score?"

Toren pauses. I remember Chris. His score was low, I think a four. But he is District Five, so Toren won't know the answer.

I scratch my face with four fingers. Toren doesn't notice. I try to get his attention by tapping my fingers against my thigh. Finally he notices and a look of understanding flits across his face. "Four." he says as he addresses Scylla.

I can tell she knows what happened. She purses her lips, "Well at least you two are starting to work together." she says.

...

The next morning comes, after a long day of memorizing tributes. Today is the day of the interviews. Tomorrow...tomorrow the Games begin.

I can't wait.

Scylla gathers Toren and me together after breakfast along with Jet. "Well, now you know your tributes, and now you will have to use that information."

"Now," Jet takes out several more flashcards similar to the ones from yesterday's torture sessions.

"We've already memorized everything from yesterday!" I protest.

"Watch your tongue!" Scylla snaps. "Let Jet finish!" I still think all of this knowledge is stupid.

Jet continues once he sees that I'm done. "Scylla and I developed scenarios to help you think about strategy. You will use the stuff from yesterday to help you make a solution. There really isn't a right or wrong answer, you just have to have reasoning behind it."

Toren looks confused. "So, what do you mean by scenario?"

"I guess we'll start with you to demonstrate, Toren." Scylla pulls out a card at random. "You are fighting with the boy from District Three who has a knife as a weapon. This is the bloodbath, so your allies are fighting others and cannot be called on. There are several weapons lying around you, including swords and spears, but he is close enough to stab you if you move."

"Oh. That's easy. I would wrestle him for the knife and then slit his throat. Or just snap his neck." Toren replies after a slight hesitation.

"Defend." says Scylla curtly.

"Defend?"

"Your answer, defend your reasoning." says Jet.

"Oh, okay. Well, because he's only one hundred and twenty pounds or something. He has no weapons experience or anything. He's only twelve." says Toren quickly.

"Good. Annie what would you do if you and the Career alliance survived until the final eight. Toren and Sasha, knowing that they will probably turn on them soon, kills Mara and Sheen, and then move on to you and Thorn. He has stolen your weapons and as well as Thorn's. What do you do?"

I look nervously at Toren. "He wouldn't do that. Betray us, I mean. Right?"

Toren doesn't say anything. Scylla says, "In the arena nothing is for sure. Answer the question."

Toren still hasn't denied it. If anything, he looks relieved by what Scylla said. Whatever. I turn to her. "I guess...I would just attack Toren."

"Interesting. You would fight a physically larger tribute that has weapons while you don't. Would you like to redo your answer?" Scylla raises an eyebrow at me.

"Okay. I would...um, probably just flee. I am faster than both of them. The immediate danger would be over" I concur.

Jet nods, "Good. Toren, you are on watch for your alliance and you hear twigs snap. You go over to investigate..."

The questions rattle off more slowly than yesterday. For questions that supposedly have no right answer, these questions have many wrong ones. In a few minutes it is clear that Scylla and Jet prefer Toren's answers over mine. He pauses ever so slightly before answering and I can practically see the gears working inside his head.

I, on the other hand, struggle with these brainteasers. I only get about half of them right, and sometimes it takes more than one try to get it the second or third time.

And what's worse, Scylla and Jet start stopping me if I get too slow.

I would say, "Umm...I think that...uh..."

And then she'd interrupt me claiming that I am too slow and that the wolf mutts or whatever killed me.

Or I would actually be answering the question and she'd still annoy me. Like if I say, "Um...I'd probably run into the feast first and grab the knives before anyone else can...um..."

"Too late. You're dead. Titus has already killed you with his spear."

Thankfully, they run out of questions by lunchtime. The four of us go to the table. I can't help but notice that Jet slaps Toren on the back for a job well done.

After lunch, Alexis and Marcus arrive with a few assistants for the interviews costumes. Scylla and Jet have to leave to arrive in the audience. "Good luck you two." Jet says. "I know you'll do great."

Scylla isn't as warm, "You know what to do. Be charming, be powerful, and be likeable. If you don't know how to answer a question, just laugh and try to stall. Talk about the Capitol, or training, or your strategy. Don't screw this up!" Is it just me, or did Scylla look in my direction with that last line?

Toren and I say our goodbyes and then leave with our respective stylists. Alexis takes me to the interview building. The whole time I am wondering what I will be wearing. When I ask her, she simply says, "It's still blue, don't worry." Then she winks at me.

When we arrive at the building, a few Avoxes take us to a private back room. Claudia, the prep team worker, begins to take the dress off of the hanging rack. I only get a small glance at it before Alexis turns me around and starts on my makeup as usual. "I think this time we'll go with some simple makeup, so everyone can see your pretty features." she says as she dabs some concealer on a zit on my forehead.

About half an hour later, after my clothes are replaced by a dress, my face is covered in makeup, and my body decked out in accessories, I finally get to see myself.

The dress is simple. A lovely dark blue color that extends from my shoulders past my feet. As I walk, it drags a little behind me elegantly. The deep blue is only broken by pearls. Loads and loads of pearls. They dangle from seams in the dress, spaced only a few inches apart. It really makes it heavy, but it is totally worth it because of how beautifully they sparkle.

I am wearing high heels again, black ones. A necklace covered in more pearls adorns my neck. My face is covered with a small bit of blue eye shadow, which just matches the dress well. My hair is in a tight bun on the top of my head. Behind my head is an exquisite blue headdress. It frames my face wonderfully, and even has some more pearls on it.

I look stunning. My costume looked a little contrived, but now I look like an elegant princess. A blue princess.

Just then an Avox comes in and nods at Alexis. She dismisses him. "Okay Annie, it's time. You and the other tributes have to meet before the interviews backstage. Go on. I know you'll do great!"

I walk out of the room. Time for the interviews. I put on my most winning smile on and prepare to face the crowds.


	10. Chapter 09: The Interviews

In the back room I wait with the twenty two other tributes. Mara's already onstage, as I can see through a TV in the room. She's wearing stripes of silver and gold over a simple white blouse. Her flaming red hair is like an ugly spot against the glamor of her dress.

She's not doing too hot. Where she excels at weapons and intimidation, she falters at charm and likeability. Caesar asks her a question about her mindset and she looks hesitant and unsure.

Finally, something where I know I can beat her.

Around me, most of the other tributes are pacing nervously. They've never trained for this. I place myself in their shoes: being in front of the entire country and being asked questions they would much rather not talk about. Weaklings.

Mara, finishes mumbling something about bows, and leaves the stage. Caesar tries to put some good spin on it like he always does. Then Sheen comes on.

The tributes go on and on, each trying to woo the crowds in their own way. Sheen comes across as tough and menacing, a good strategy considering his huge body. Sasha is shy and quiet, maybe going for a mysterious angle? Thorn plays up his intelligence and Caesar tests him out with some puzzles. The crowd goes wild for that.

Then comes District Three. Jasmine actually handles herself pretty well for a non-Career. She answers his questions with no hesitation and even cracks a few jokes. Dominic looks frightened up on the stage and practically wets him-self when Caesar mentions his score of 2. His interview continues slowly.

I stop looking at the TV as I realize I'm next. A Capitol worker comes in and nods at my direction. Toren wishes me luck as I exit the room.

I hurry along the backstage, following the crew worker. Extra mics and stage equipment lay around and I sidestep them. It's not easy with my long dress train.

Finally I see a door with a sign above it that says "On air". The words are green. There's no need for it though; the roar of the crowd is proof enough. Caesar is dismissing Dominic now. "And now we'll hear from the first tribute from District Four! I present...Annie Creeeeestaaaaa!" His words triumphantly drag out my name.

I push through the door.

The waving crowds burst in at me from all directions. They're chanting my name as they rise to their feet. I flash back to the tribute parade. This feels different though; more intimate.

I walk the short distance to Caesar as I try to guess how many people are here. Probably a few thousand.

I stand next to Caesar and offer him my hand. A huge grin lights up my face as I wave my hand daintily at the crowd. There's a sort of switch in my brain that turns me from normal Annie into charming Annie. I couldn't care less about these brainless people. But I care about their money and what it could buy me.

Caesar kisses my hand and offers me a seat in the interview chair. He's dressed in green this year. His hair is tied back in a ponytail. His face stretches into a smile as he sits. I mean, literally stretches. He may have had one plastic surgery too many.

"Annie. Annie Annie Annie," Caesar bubbles enthusiastically, "You look ab-so-lute-ly stunning."

I force myself to blush. "Well I can't take all the credit." I say modestly. I laugh with the Capitol audience.

"But seriously, doesn't this look amazing?!" I gesture at my dress to the delight of the audience.. " I need to thank my stylist Alexis. She's very good."

Caesar nods, "I think that's an understatement." He says with a guffaw.

Once the audience settles down he goes to the meat of the interview. "So Annie. Are. You. Ready?" One of his eyebrows raises [R1] quizzically.

"Oh, Caesar. Believe me, I'm about as ready as I can get." I say. "Let me go in right now; I'll do it." I modify that aggressive statement with a laugh. The audience likes that. Score.

"Oh I believe you Annie. What types of skills do you have that make you so ready?" Caesar muses.

"Let's just say I'm very...accurate." I say mysteriously.

"But seriously, I'm small for a Ca- a volunteer from Four." I almost say the word 'Career' but stop myself, because training is technically against the rules. Everyone knows I do it, but announcing it live won't help me. I continue, "But where I'm small, I'm fast. Where I'm slight, I make up for in skill."

"I can see that. I know for sure you could outrun me!" Caesar laughs with the audience. I turn away from him and roll my eyes at them.

"Any thoughts on the arena Annie?" Caesar says after the funny moment has passed.

"Hmmm..." I think out loud. "I haven't really thought about it. Obviously I don't know for sure. I'm hoping for some water. It would be nice for a beach. I love the water."

"I bet you do. You're from District Four; they're great at swimming." Caesar says.

"I mean, most of us are. Toren and I both are very good. I-"

"So who's better?" Caesar interjects playfully.

"At swimming? Gosh..." I muse it over. "Sorry Toren, but I gotta go with me." I stare right into the camera on that last part.

"Really?" Caesar asks.

"Really. Just..." I cover my mouth with my hand. "No one tell him that; he doesn't need to know."

Caesar zips his lips and eats the key with a bemused expression on his face. The crowd loves that. We all start laughing together. The interview continues without anything unusual. We talk a bit about my strategy, how I would fare in the bloodbath and such. The whole interview is only about a minute longer. It passes by so quickly, but I'm pretty confident in how I did. They laughed at all my jokes and at all the right moments. I could feel that they were on my side. I could feel it.

Caesar rises as I stand to conclude the interview. He kisses my hand and then holds it triumphantly in the air. "Ladies and gentlemen...the lovely Annie Cresta!"

My face bursts into a huge smile as I look around the audience, who has mostly risen to their feet in spontaneous applause. I got them right where I want them. They love me.

Back in the backstage room with the other tributes I watch the TV. Toren is on right now. "So, Caesar, got anything you want to share?" Toren asks.

Caesar looks at the audience and motions that his lips are sealed.

I blush. I hadn't thought of how my interview could have hurt Toren's. But the more I watch the more I see that it's fine. He simply shrugs off what I said about his swimming and dives straight into the interview. He comes across as charismatic and funny. The audience falls for him, just like with me.

I settle down in a couch after Toren comes back. We watch the rest of the interviews together. A great weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. Now there is nothing more to do until the Games start. No more crowds to please. No more alliances to create. It's nice.

The interviews pass slowly. Only a few stand out in my mind. Titus tries to act tough and mean, but his smaller frame doesn't make it believable. And the fact that he is constantly twitching and shifting his position makes it hard to listen to what he's saying. Holly from 11 looks defiant and doesn't seem to care about what Caesar is saying. Her eyes lazily drift around the audience, unfocused on anything.

The interviews go downhill from there. The poorer districts, the ones with no chance of winning, have highly unprepared tributes. Once Caesar hits 8 or 9, the kids have no idea what to do. District 12 has only one mentor and he's a raging alcoholic from what I've heard. Those tributes are unsure of themselves and don't really come across as anything but scared kids.

Finally the interviews wrap up. Toren and I say goodbye to the rest of the Careers. "See you guys tomorrow!" Toren says with a wink.

"Bye!" says everyone. We're not going to see them until we're killing the other tributes.

Thorn mentions our strategy again. "Remember, Mara and Annie take the outside with their long-range weapons and the rest of us go for the kills in the middle."

I nod my acknowledgement at him and then turn away. Toren and I go to the Training Center together. "Nice job." He says.

"Thanks, you too." I say

"I think we both improved our rankings. " He murmurs. I hope we do. Honestly, both of us had the best Career interviews.

Scylla and Jet greet us at the door to our rooms. "Excellent!" Jet says, raising his hand for a high five. We both slap it eagerly. Even Scylla doesn't have anything bad to say.

"Tomorrow the Games begin, are you ready with your strategy?" Scylla asks.  
Toren and I look at each other. "Yeah, I think so." we both agree.

"Good. I will give you some more advice tomorrow, but right now, you need food and sleep the most. Go to the dining room to get filled up." Scylla says.

Jet says, "Get really full! You know you deserve it!" He smiles at us as we leave.

Toren and I go straight for the desert. We know we won't have any of it for several weeks. As I stuff my face with some apple pie, Toren grabs for some sweet tarts and dollops some whipped cream on them. We both grin as we reach for the ice cream at the same time. "Mmmm...try it with some chocolate sauce." Toren says as he hands me the bottle.

I take it gratefully. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" I ask as I look for some more. Regardless of what he says, I'm probably going to continue.

"Of course," he mumbles through some ice cream. "We'll burn off any fat we get as soon as we start to lose food."

Just then, Scylla and Jet walk in. Jet grins broadly as he sees smears of chocolate on both of our faces. He tosses us a napkin.

Even Scylla can't suppress a small smirk.

We gorge until we're stuffed. My stomach seems to have filled out quite a bit. I think this is the happiest I've been since I volunteered. My happiness elongates when Scylla says that sponsors are starting to line up by the doors for us.

"Toren, you are the tribute who has the highest chance of winning according to Capitol betting pools." Scylla announces.

"Woohoo!" I pound his back with my fist to signify my congrats.

She continues, "Annie, you're third, right behind Mara."

Toren flashes me a happy smile. This is good. Third is good. The interviews must have come off very well. As I knew they would.

Scylla says, "I think you will have the opportunity for many sponsor gifts."

Toren and I are delighted by this news. Our chances of winning are very good right now. We have solid alliances, a bounty of sponsors, and no real threats that are very powerful.

Jet tells us, "We're going to have to wake you up early tomorrow, so get to sleep right away."

Toren and I begin packing up. Scylla stops us by holding out her hand. On it are two white circles. "These are sleeping pills. I've had cases in which tributes are too nervous to get any sleep the night before. Now, I have no idea if you are, but you can't. A bad night's sleep could be deadly. Take it, and a few seconds later you will be sleeping soundly."

We both take the pills in our hands and get ready for bed. "See you tomorrow." Toren says as I enter my room. He envelopes me in a hug, I hug him back gratefully.

"Hey," I say, "we're both going to be fine."

He nods. "Yeah, I know."

"Good night," I say.

Inside the bedroom, I start brushing my teeth. I take a long luxurious shower, knowing it will be the last one until I get out of the arena. With my hair in a towel, I begin preparing for bed. I'm changing into pajamas when I hear voices.

They're muted, as if they are trying to be discreet. I press my ear against the door to listen.

A female voice says very faintly, "...stronger than her. Her training score wasn't as high as yours was. She's not as big of a competitor."

A male voice protests, "But she has just as many sponsors as me!"

Another voice, louder this time. I recognize it as Jet. "That won't matter in the arena. She's still weaker than you."

With a start I realize what's going on. It's Scylla, Toren, and Jet. The "she" they're talking about is...me.

"What are you trying to say?" The voice I known realize is Toren's says.

"Only one can win, Toren. Only one." says Scylla.

"I know that!"

"Shh!" Jet warns, "What she means is that you will need to break off with your alliance to Annie at some point. The two of you will likely go far, but in the end, you have to face the facts that you will have to beat her in order to win."

They're telling him to break off our alliance? To betray me at some point? Toren wouldn't do that, he just wouldn't.

But he doesn't raise any protest to what they are saying.

Scylla notices his silence and says, "We can only bring one of you home at best. We have both agreed...you are more likely to be the victor. And if that means betraying your alliance, so be it. I had to do it, and I won."

"Okay. I see what you mean." Toren said.

Tears blur my eyesight. Toren has accepted his eventual betrayal of me. He didn't even try to convince them otherwise. My friend, my ally, my teammate. The person I trusted most of all.

There's really no one I can trust.

I don't know what will happen tomorrow; whether Toren will be on my side or not, whether I can depend on him. I hope so. Both of my mentors are apparently rooting against me at this point. They've chosen Toren to win, and not me.

With a large sigh I lunge on the bed and shove the pill straight into my mouth. I swallow.

The sweet bliss of sleep overrides my body. Tomorrow the Games begin. Tomorrow the games begin. Tomorrow I will fight, I will do what I've been training for. Tomorrow I will prove them wrong.

The last thing I do before drifting off into peaceful slumber is wipe the single teardrop off of my cheek. There is no room for weakness in the Games.


	11. Chapter 10: Entering the Arena

I awaken from a deep sleep, devoid of dreams. My eyes open with increased vigor. My blood starts pulsing with renewed energy and it feels like a breath of fresh air has been pumped through my lungs. Man, that was some deep sleep.

I groan when I realize what happened yesterday. Toren's wavering trustiness. But then I feel elated that today is the day of the bloodbath. Time to finally prove myself.

I need to focus on the present. Toren will be faithful for the beginning. Don't think about it Annie. Chances are, someone will kill him before he can betray you.

That thought is even worse.

Just then, Scylla walks in the room with a large glass of water. With no explanation, she shoves it in my face. "Drink." she orders.

I drink, not that I have any choice. The water is going down my throat whether I want it to or not. After choking it down, I splutter, "What was that for?"

"Thirst. Water may be scarce in the arena." she says matter-of-factly. "Now take a shower. Make it fast, we want to be on time for the hovercraft."

I take my shower slowly, against Scylla's wishes. It's going to be the last one I have in a while, so might as well enjoy it.

As I'm in there, I realize that Scylla hasn't old me anything about yesterday. Of course, she doesn't know that I overheard their plan. But she's pretending that it never happened. I didn't really expect anything different, but it's still a blow to the gut.

A few raps on the door signify that Scylla needs me to hurry up. I soak up the last few drops of ecstasy as I can and turn off the faucet.

As I step out in some clothing laid out for me, Scylla hands me some more water. I drink it as quickly as possible. "You'll thank me later. Careers are notorious for being dependant on the Cornucopia rations for food and water. Hopefully you will last longer without dehydration and hunger."

I nod. Her reasoning makes sense. When she hands me a large brown pill I start to get confused. "What's this?" I ask.

"Just take it."

I swallow it and then instantly regret my decision. An intense bitter sensation floods my taste buds and almost overwhelms me. I start choking immediately and grab Scylla's third water glass. I chug it down as quickly as I can.

"What was that?" I manage to choke out.

She looks amused. "Sorry, I knew you probably wouldn't take it if you knew what it was. It's a vitamin pill, enough for four days. You could theoretically last four days with no food and still be healthy."

After I finish choking it down, I'm relieved. If worst comes to worst and I leave the Cornucopia with no food, I have four days to find some. I can do that.

Scylla takes me to the dining room for some breakfast. Toren wishes me a good morning. He doesn't look different or confused about last night. If anything, he looks excited.

Annie, stop it! I think. Stop reflecting on the past!

I start convincing myself that Toren was just saying that to appease Jet and Scylla. And he's excited because today is the day of the Games. Nothing to worry about. We're going to go far together.

Scylla and Jet warn us to eat very little. Too much food in our stomachs could hurt our fighting chances. I drink three more glasses of water before finishing my two pancakes. My stomach rumbles uncomfortably with so much fluids and so few solids.

Scylla says it's time to head out. This is it!

It feels strange. Strange to leave the place I've been living with absolutely no belongings. Not even a district token, because Careers weren't allowed them because they promoted sentimentality.

Toren and I are a bundle of nervous energy as we all step into the elevator. Nervous and excited. This is what we've been preparing for for...almost our entire lives. My head is reeling. In minutes, we could be fighting the other tributes and getting closer and closer to victory.

The journey down the elevator seems quick. Too quick. Then Scylla is taking me to the hovercraft that's outside the building. Then the tributes start loading on.

"I'm not going to give you good luck, because I don't believe in that." Scylla says, as she pulls me away for a moment. "But you have a good chance of winning. Your alliance is strong and you are skilled enough to make it far."

Then she goes into strategy. "Now, you are going to be in the bloodbath in about an hour. When you get into the arena, look at the tributes first. You may think about looking at your surroundings, but focus on your competition first. You only have a minute. So, figure out who around you is a threat and keep an eye on them while they dash for weapons. You are covering the outside, correct?"

"Yeah. Mara and me are." I say.

"Good. I suggest that you run in and grab the first set of knives you can. The first set, not the best set, understand? Then you go to a side of the Cornucopia and starting taking out tributes who run away. Target the strongest ones first. Titus, Holly, Sam. You know who are threats. You ready?"

I nod. I'm ready. More ready than I've been for anything.

"You nervous?"

I smile and then shake my head.

"Good. Don't be. Just try and kill as many tributes as you can. It'll make my job easier." She winks. Maybe is she is on my side after all.

Scylla says goodbye and she walks away. This'll be the last time I see her until I get out from the arena. She doesn't look too emotional. Toren says his goodbyes to Jet. "Good luck Toren. Good luck Annie." He says as he nods at me.

Then he's gone too.

A man escorts me onto the hovercraft. He sits me down in a seat in the cramped interior. Toren is taken away to the other side. He strikes up a conversation with Thorn, who's sitting right next to him.

Focusing on the man now. He straps me into the chair and attaches my seat belt firmly. They almost seem like restraints rather than safety features. As if I'm going to run away.

The man injects me with a needle. i barely flinch. I know what it is: somewhere inside the cold liquid being pumped in my veins is a tracker. It monitors my vital signs as well as my position. This way, Gamemakers can keep track of any tributes that try to hide from cameras.

The man exits the hovercraft just as the last few tributes get on. Mara climbs on and ignores the Capitol woman's offered helping hand. She gets seated and gets injected. Mara notices me staring. She smiles and nods at me.

I see my other few allies: Sasha is in the corner, looking very scared and Sheen is sitting next to Titus and staring off into the distance. The boy from District 5 (Chris, as I remember from my lessons) is the last to get on board. Once he's settled, the lights turn off and my stomach gets a rush as we ascend into the air.

The windows are blacked out so we have no idea where the arena is or what it entails. All I can tell is from the twisting feeling in my stomach that suggests we're flying. Our destination will be a mystery.

I glance around the cabin. This is the last time all 24 of us will be gathered peacefully. The next time I see these people, I'll be trying to kill them. It's so strange to think that the person next to me might be dead in an hour at my own hands.

I turn to look at the boy sitting next to me. He's from District Seven. Fourteen years old, training score of 5, name of Joshua. The facts come back to me from when I had them drilled into me. He looks terrified. He glances nervously left and right as if he's already in danger. I scoff. Weakling.

Most of the tributes are just as scared as Joshua. Some even more. I can tell who will die the quickest. Dominic is easily the most terrified. Gloria from 8 looks zoned out. The two from 12 are fidgeting like crazy. Holly and the boy from 11 (I forgot his name) lock eyes. They're allies, I remember suddenly. Neither of them look too scared. I was right in thinking that they are threats.

And there are also tributes who are excited. Sheen grins broadly as he surveys his smaller competition. Thorn and Toren chat contentedly. Titus is anxious as usual; he's shaking and twitching and looks around with what can only be described as hunger.

The hovercraft ride ends abruptly. That was shorter than I expected. Only about fifteen minutes in the air. I don't know whether that's because of the fact that the arena is close to the Capitol or if the hovercraft is very very quick.

In any case, the hovercraft doors open and various people come in and grip their respective tributes by the arm. One by one, we leave the hovercraft separately. Toren is taken first, by a small woman with blue hair. Before I know it, he's gone. Darn. I wanted to wish him luck before we entered the arena. It's doesn't really matter; we'll see each other after the bloodbath.

After a few minutes navigating the underground facility with my escort, I arrive at my prep room. The door opens to reveal an energetic Alexis in a small, poorly lit black room.

"This is it! The big day!" she says.

I smile as she embraces me. Regardless of her mindless enthusiasm, I can't help but echo her feelings.

"Come on over here. I have your uniform!" she beams. She helps me into it.

Gray cargo pants. Black sneakers that form to my feet. A white T-shirt with a black jacket on top. It's not very stylish, but annoys Alexis, and not very comfortable, which annoys me.

I try to think about what arena it could be used for. Typically, the uniforms are built to help tributes with whatever environment the arena is. This one could be for many types: forest, mountains, ruins, or caves. It could be anything.

A woman's voice comes on over the intercom, "Two minutes."

A brief spell of panic overcomes me. This has all happened so fast. An hour ago I was talking to Scylla. Just an hour! Now I'm on my own beneath an arena and I didn't even get to say goodbye to my friend.

I take gulps from my water to try and quell my nerves. It doesn't work.

"You nervous?" she asks.

I shake my head. She doesn't buy it.

"Hey! You're going to do great! I bet that you're going to kill more tributes than any of the Careers!" she says. I drink some more water. "If you're nervous, don't worry about. I've been designing for twelve years and not one of my tributes has ever felt too confident before entering the arena. And none of them lost on the first day. Just relax."

That actually does make me feel better. I start to pace in the room. Still nervous, but with a hint of confidence. I stretch out my muscles, ready for the wear and tear of the arena. I'm in the midst of some lunges when the voice comes back. "Thirty seconds."

I turn my head to the clear tube in the corner of the room. I walk towards it slowly. My mind is blank as I approach the door, the one that takes me into the arena. When I step in, the door closes around me. Alexis smiles and gives me a thumbs up.

The panel around my feet starts to move.

This is it. The moment my entire life has been preparing me for. I've trained so hard, so hard, to win. Time to prove myself.

As I rise slowly into the tube, I lose sight of Alexis. Lose sight of everything pretty much. There's nothing around me but blackness. I mentally prepare myself for the fighting that's sure to come. Once I hit the surface I'll only have a minute.

I wait. And wait.

About five minutes pass, and then ten. Is this normal? I've obviously never been in the tubes before, so I don't know how long it takes. But this doesn't seem normal.

I touch my hands to the edges of the tube. I've never been claustrophobic, but then again, I've never been crammed into a small black space for very long either.

I wait. And wait.

I muse on the tributes I'll kill first. I am going to go in for a set of throwing knives and go to the edge of the bloodbath. Any tributes that run, I'll kill. Of course, I can't catch them all. Holly is dangerous. There's something about that look in her ere that makes me think she needs to go down. And Titus. There's something seriously wrong with him. I debate about killing the boy from 11, but decide he's not a much of a threat without his ally Holly. Both of the tributes from Seven could last long, so I guess that I-

A bright white light floods my eyes. I shield them with my hands as I adjust to the harsh sunlight. Vague blurry black shapes form around me. I realize they are tributes.

I open my eyes and take in as much information as I can. The golden Corncopia. A line of bags around it. Tributes on every side. A few faces jump out at me. Mara. Jasmine. Sasha. The ground is covered with bits of gravel. The arena-

I gasp n in wonder. The arena. It's like nothing I have ever seen before. Nothing. I turn my body a complete one hundred eighty degrees to see it, totally ignoring my competition. Never in my life have I been so stunned. This is the most incredible thing I have ever seen.

As my mouth gapes open as I take in the visual stimuli of the arena, Claudius Templesmith's voice booms from everywhere and nowhere.

"Welcome tributes. Let the Seventieth Annual Hunger Games...begin!"

* * *

Did you really think I'd start the Games without another cliffhanger? Anyway, thank you so much for reading this far! It means a lot to me. Please, drop a review of your favorite chapter or just tell me what you think of the story. I need to give a shout out to Pabulover123, who almost always leaves a super nice review for me. Thank you! Anyway, this is the last chapter outside of the arena. I'm very excited to write about the Games themselves. Once the Games begin, there will be shifting alliances, betrayals, traumatic deaths, depressing moments, uplifting moments, epic fights, amazing set pieces, mutts, confusion, sacrifice, and one character will go insane. It only gets better from here. If you want to tell me what you think will happen in the bloodbath, feel free to leave a review. Let the Games begin!


	12. Chapter 11: Bloodbath

Welcome to the section of my story that contains the actual Hunger Games! Keep in mind, there will be violent, gory chapters. If you could read the book "The Hunger Games" without getting nightmares, you should be able to stomach my story. If one chapter is particularly gory or traumatizing, I will post a warning at the top. Also, keep reviewing! It seriously makes my day when people review! Thanks for reading so far!

* * *

_"Welcome tributes. Let the Seventieth Annual hunger Games...begin!"_

My eyes dart from side to side, taking in as much information in as possible. There's not enough time to comprehend what I'm seeing. Just brief glimpses of stimuli that I absorb for later use.

My fists, curled by my sides, tingle with the bite of the cold wind. As I look around, tears stinging in my eyes, I can see why.

The arena is spread out before me. _All _of it. The Cornucopia is on a ledge, more of a mountain, above the arena. The circular ground I'm standing on, maybe about a hundred yards long, is about a mile in the air. It's as if someone took a giant column and plopped 24 kids right on top. The tributes, along with the platforms we came in on, are right next to the edge.

I gaze around the vast arena in wonder. The world is remarkably different from miles above. To both my wonder and horror, I'm only a few inches away from the drop-off point. I peer over unsteadily, and feel nauseous when I see the huge fall down. It's almost unimaginable. How the hell am I supposed to get down a perfectly smooth cliff?

Glancing around, I see the answer. About halfway between me and the Cornucopia is a line of backpacks that circles the giant golden statue. I can tell instantly what they are: parachutes. Parachutes rolled up in backpacks ready to be deployed. The simple beauty of it shocks me. No tribute can escape the bloodbath without a parachute. We will all dash in to grab supplies and weapons, with the weaker tributes taking the parachutes and fleeing.

An idea sparks in my mind. The plan was to use throwing knives to kill tributes, but there might be a better way. If only I had more time.

The Cornucopia has plenty of weapons. I can see a bow, several spears, nunchacku, maces, axes, knives too. Anything I might need and more. All of it is right inside the mouth…as opposed to being spread out around it. I will have to go all the way there, about 50 yards, to get any weapons. Thankfully, the ground is covered with gravel and some small stones. Devoid of major obstacles. Perfect for running. This is optimal for me. Speed is my greatest advantage.

Ten seconds. Shoot. No time to think. I follow Scylla's advice and look around me at the tributes. Sasha and Mara, my allies, are on my left. Jasmine is there too. The girl from 5 is on my right. The only real threat around me is the girl from Seven who is a few places to my right.

No time to plan. This is it. The start of the Games. What I've been preparing for. All those long hours of training poured into one goal are about to be put in use. I'm ready.

Adrenaline floods my system. Fight or flight. I'm one of the few who chooses fight.

My heartbeat slows to a crawl.

My fists curl by my sides.

My feet point towards the Cornucopia.

My eyes are focused on my target.

The cannon booms and the tributes all jump off their platforms in a savage and chaotic rush for survival.

At that point, everything is instinct. I sprint like I've never sprinted before. The tributes on my sides get closer and closer together. I look left and right, vigilant for threats. But they're more scared of me than I of them.

In what seems like a second, I'm at the line of backpacks. Most tributes stop here, desperate for that chance to escape. About half continue running for supplies and weapons. Including Sasha and Mara.

Time to put my plan in action. I grab the nearest backpack. It's heavier than I expected, about ten pounds. I hurl it as far as I can towards the edge. It makes it, barely. A huge feeling of accomplishment fills me as it tumbles into empty air. Now some poor tribute has no escape.

I begin to hear screams and shouts. The rest of the tributes must have reached the weapons. I wish luck to my allies, specifically Toren. Not that they need it.

I turn to another parachute. My fingers grasp it only to discover another tribute already has it in her grip.

My mouth forms into a wicked smile when I stare down into the terrified face of Jasmine.

My first kill.

My arm snaps towards her and my elbow connects with her nose. She falls to the ground as her blood splatters on the rocks. She screams out in pain as she crumples. I lean over her.

Jasmine grips the heavy backpack in her hand and slams it into my head. This sudden burst of ferocity stuns me as I topple to the rocks. I notice her scrambling to her feet, trying to make a dash for survival. I grab her ankle with my hand and she tumbles to the ground.

I pull her towards me, ignoring the screaming and kicking she emits with the aggression that only true terror can bring. I grip her shoulder and flip her on her back. Her blood is covering most of her face. Jasmine screams as she sees me pick up a nearby rock in my hand.

I hold the hard and heavy rock above my head. I see the kill in my mind. A simple downwards motion with some force behind it and her skull would cave in. She'd be a goner. No more Jasmine.

And in that moment I am so unbelievably sickened by this thought that I almost gag. The emotion is foreign to me. I recognize it as revulsion. She's a person, not a tribute. Jasmine is a person. She wants to survive just as much as I do. She is so much more than my competition; she's a girl who wants to go back to her family.

I've been through all the training. I know how to kill with my eyes closed. But in this moment, I know, I _know, _that I can't follow through. I'm not a murderer. I'm not a Career.

The rock falls from my grip in what seems like slow motion. Jasmine's expression turns from fear to surprise then relief. In a daze, I stand up and wipe the gravel off my knees. Surprising even myself, I mutter, "I'm...I'm sorry."

I back away from her as if she has the plague. She remains on the ground, stunned. She's alright though. Jasmine wipes some of the blood off of her face and grips the parachute in her left hand. She stands up and stares at me. A wordless communication passes between us. Then, she makes the leap off the edge, safe.

I don't know how I feel about her escape. Relief? Happiness? Fear? One thing's for sure: I have to get out of here. I need to get out of here. Now. My alliance will kill me once they figure out I spared a tribute. There's no room for weakness in these Games. I may have wrecked all of my chances for winning by simply saving some worthless girl who's going to die anyway.

Focus, Annie, focus. While I fought with Jasmine, tributes have been dying at the bloodbath. I turn my attention to the huge Cornucopia. About half of the tributes are hacking away at each other over there. Brief spurts of violence flash before my eyes. Sasha slicing into Dominic's neck. Holly sprinting away from Titus. Bruno lying dead at Thorn's feet. His blood is still gushing from his head. A girl screams as she watches her district partner try to crawl away from his adversary with one arm missing.

I run towards the supplies, trying to ignore the killing all around me. Escape is my priority right now. And I need provisions.

The mouth is overflowing with weapons, fire starters, backpacks, food, tents, and shields. Anything I could want. I lunge forward and grab a belt overflowing with small throwing knives. Good. Knives are safe.

A spear whizzes over my head and I hit the ground. I hear the thud as it hits a tribute. I need to flee. I scramble for supplies. I grab a nearby backpack and begin stuffing food and water bottles in it as fast as I can.

Whipping my head around, I see that roughly half the tributes have fled by making the difficult jump off the edge. Those parachutes are rapidly disappearing. I look around for any adversity. The only one near me is Mara, searching for weapons.

I sprint away from the mouth of the Cornucopia, looking for a parachute. Silently, I curse myself. Why the hell didn't I take one before! It should have been my first priority!

I almost trip over a body as I run. Looking down, I see who it is: Dominic. The little boy is clearly dead. He's almost unrecognizable from the blood. But one thing is unmistakable: gripped in his hand is a backpack.

I take it from him quickly. At that moment, two things happen.

A bright, searing pain ignites in my thigh.

I am tackled from the side by an unseen force.

I can't tell what's happening. My world is a confused mess of sound and fury. My leg feels like it's on fire; I can barely keep from screaming. As I roll around, it digs into the ground which only increases the excruciating pain. The tribute who attacked me is struggling to take my parachute. I can feel his forearms, larger than mine; tighten as they try to get the treasured backpack.

No. I may not be able to kill. But that doesn't mean I can't fight.

I drive my left knee, the uninjured one, as hard as I can into his groin. He recoils from the pain. I follow with a punch to the throat. I know who it is as soon as he shows his face. It's Chris, from District Five.

Instead of covering his weak spots like I expected, his clings tighter to the parachute and uses my distractions to rip it from my grip.

No! As he stands shakily to his feet, I slam my elbow into his stomach. He falls to the ground, the backpack landing a few feet away. I run towards it, desperate, trying to ignore the arrow sticking out of my thigh. I can see out of the corners of my eyes that almost all the tributes have fled by now. Parachutes are rare now. This is life or death.

Before I can scoop up the backpack, I see Holly. She's fleeing the bloodbath with a backpack of choice supplies and several axes in her arms. She throws one at me with intent to kill. It barely misses. I can feel the wind as it scrapes by my neck.

That gives Chris the opportunity he needs. He grabs the parachute that's lying on the ground and runs for the edge. "No!" I yell, for all the good it will do.

I sprint towards him, with the ever present pain in my leg. To my left, I can see Holly reloading, but she won't be ready in time to stop him. He can't get away; if he does, I'm dead. Chris already has the parachute slung over his shoulder and is only a few feet from the edge. About to make the jump.

I close the gap between us with a second to spare.

Just as I'm about to stop him, block his jump or take the parachute, Holly strikes. The ax spins through the air and lands in Chris's neck. I hear the crack as metal crunches on bone. He coughs blood on me, hot and sticky. His body, only a few feet from the edge, topples forward. With nothing to block his way, he falls straight into me.

Together, we both fall backwards.

I reach out my hands behind me to brace myself for the impact with the ground, to steady my fall. I wait for the impact. But there's nothing there.

There's_ nothing _there.

A fear like nothing that I have ever experienced before floods my system as I realize what has happened. It's a deep, primordial terror. It makes the pain feel obsolete. My throat is constricted as my stomach twists itself in knots. I feel a surge of helplessness. I can train as long or as hard as I want, but I will never, ever, be able to defeat gravity. There's nothing I can do; I am completely, utterly powerless.

My eyes stare into the sky, the deep blue sky, as I tumble off the edge.

It's going to be a long way down.


	13. Chapter 12: Annie Alone

**Thanks again to my loyal readers! Please review; it seriously makes a writer's day when you comment!**

**Also, whenever my followers get a message about a new chapter, they are directed to the Cast of Characters chapter instead of the new chapter. Is that inconvenient for you? I can work on switching it around if anyone is bothered by it. Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

* * *

I thought I knew fear. I thought I had mastered it. But there is a certain terror in my imminent death and the helplessness that comes from knowing there is nothing I can do to stop it.

I had never skydived before. There was simply no reason for it. Back in Four, there were some cliff-jumpers who laughed in the face of gravity. But I'm not one of those people. My fear of heights, and falling, is just as present as it is for anyone.

My stomach is knotted and twisted like a pretzel. I feel like there is a massive hole inside me; a place with no feeling whatsoever. It's horrible and exciting at the same time. The sensation is new for me, at least at this magnitude. I'm not sure I like it.

The wind is incredibly powerful. Tiny rivulets of tears pour out of my eyes because the gust was simply too strong. My face is rippling back and forth, and my hair has come out of my bun in streamers of black above my head. The air no longer feels like air when you're falling through it at maximum velocity; no, it feels like grains of sand being blasted in your face. The pressure is stressing every corner of my body. All I can hear is an incredible white noise that blocks out everything else. The only way I know I'm screaming is from the soreness in my throat.

Stop Annie. Screaming is useless. No one will help you.

There's a sort of confusing moment when I initially fell off in which I don't know what's happening. The world becomes a mess of limbs, blood, rock, and that sinking feeling in my stomach. Then, I begin noticing facts. One, I'm free falling. Two, Chris, the dead boy from Five, is a few feet from me. Three, I have no parachute.

As you can imagine, the last fact is of most pressing concern.

I spin around in the air, trying to gain more information about my surroundings. The top of the Cornucopia tower is very far away, as is the ground. I'm falling right next to the wall of gray rock that makes up the tower. Above me, several colorful parachutes have opened up. Lucky tributes. Well should they survive instead of me?

I flounder around, with no way of controlling my fall. I am completely helpless. I catch a sight of the ground below. Panic seeps into my throat. It's potent, like a drug. It immobilizes me, traps me. There's nothing I can do. I'm going to lose. I'm going to die. I reckon, by the speed I'm falling, that I have about a minute until...squish.

Then I see Chris. The tribute has lost quite a bit of blood; his face is white as a sheet. I'm certain he's dead. The ax is buried too far in his neck for him to survive it. But that's not what draws me to look at him.

He has the parachute backpack tied around him.

It hasn't deployed yet. There's a chance, just a chance that I can survive.

I try to get as close to him as I can. Moving through air isn't at all like swimming, how I imagined. There's nothing to push off of, nothing to propel you. All I can do is twist around in the air and hope that I get closer. After about ten seconds, ten seconds closer to the ground, I'm near enough to snag his leg.

Yes! Gripping him by the ankle, I pull his body closer to me. First the foot, then the knee, then the waist, and then I have him by the shoulders. It's quite disheartening to be holding a corpse, especially one that's so bloodless from the wind.

My head peers over Chris's body to look down. I regret it instantly. The ground is coming closer and closer. Every second I waste is one second closer to death. I wonder if it will be painful. I wonder how long the cameras will look at the bloody remains of my body.

I push down my fear. Fear is nothing. Fear cannot stop me.

I try to undo the straps around his shoulders, the ones binding his body to the parachute. There just some simple clasps. I have one off when I notice a small red light blinking on the side of the backpack. It starts flashing, and I image that I would hear it beep if the wind wasn't here. It can only mean one thing.

Shit. There's no time. I quickly put the strap back on his shoulder. The red light flashes faster and faster. My hands fumble with the clasps. Faster. Faster. I almost have it on. It's almost a continuous red light now. I put my arms around his body as tight as I possibly can. My shoulders strain from the effort. I don't even have time to feel any fear.

The light turns green.

The backpack opens in a burst of blue right in front of my face. Eyes closed, I feel the instant affect it has. An incredible tug pulls mine and Chris's body up as the parachute deploys. It's much, much more powerful than I anticipated. My arms, wrapped around Chris's chest, are shaken by the force. I'm not strong enough to hold on.

As the parachute pulls Chris up in a millisecond, I drop from his shoulders to his waist, then his hips, than his knees. My arms, once wrapped around him securely, now are struggling to hold him by his legs in a very insecure position.

A burst of fear runs through me as I grapple at his legs. His pants are too slippery, I can't hold on. My fingers are straining from the impossible task. I reach out my left hand to grab his shoulder strap. I think my heart is about to stop as I slowly inch my hand up there. For one painful drawn-out second, I am holding on for my life with only my right hand. But then, I grab the strap and pull myself up. Holding his body again around the chest, I feel safe.

I marvel at the fact of my survival. Yeah, I'm gripping a dead boy in the middle of the air with no parachute attached to me. But I'm alive. And, as long as I don't let go, I'll make it all the way down.

I have my arms wrapped around Chris's chest. My toes are balanced on his feet. I get as close to him as I can. If I fall it'll all be over.

With the giant blue parachute covering my view to the Cornucopia, I look around the arena. Scylla would tell me to gain as much information as I can about the terrain while I have a bird's eye view. I can imagine her next to me, whispering her advice. "Don't be an idiot!" She would say, "Just because you're shaken up doesn't mean you should sacrifice this temporary advantage."

The land which I am currently above is rugged and tough. There are several high mountains and plateaus, but of course, none of them are anywhere near the height of the Cornucopia tower. The mountains take up a few square miles. To the left is a massive desert that stretches for a large bit of the arena. To my right is more rocky terrain. The ground is more flat there, however. Easier to travel on.

Nowhere do I see forest. Nowhere do I see lakes. None of the terrain is familiar to me at all.

The longer I stay up here, the more I see. I begin noticing the tiny streams of blue that represent rivers. There are some patches of green in the arena. I doubt they are trees, but at least grass and shrubs is better than nothing. I try to memorize as much as I can while I still can see it. I wish Thorn was with me, or Toren. They'd both be better at this.

As we drift lower and lower I see more and more tributes hit the ground. Counting, I see at least 12 of them who escaped unharmed. Then there are the ones who I can't see; the ones on the other side of the tower. Then there are bound to be tributes still on the Cornucopia. My former allies. Toren is probably up there, wondering why I'm not. He'll assume I died. When night comes he'll realize that I ditched my alliance because I was too weak.

*BOOM*

An extremely loud sound reverberates through my bones. I jerk around; trying to find the source, hoping it's not a threat. Then I remember: the cannons.

There are six more cannon shots. That means seven dead tributes; surprisingly low for a bloodbath. I guess the tributes were too scared to risk running into the Cornucopia for too long. Add that to the fact that I didn't fulfill my duty of preventing people escaping and it explains the low number.

My parachute drifts lower and lower and lower. It takes an additional ten minutes to hit the ground. And even then, I've landed on the side of a mountain.

I tense my body as the parachute floats over the mountain. It's not the tallest one, and I'm not even that near the top. With a grunt, I let go of Chris's body, only a few feet above the rocks below. I hit the ground and instantly regret it. My leg, which had been enjoying a painless vacation of sorts while I floated, now sends me searing signals that I was injured. What's worse, I've lost a lot of blood from the wound not being treated right.

The parachute drags Chris a few yards further down the side of the mountain. The great big blue fabric starts crumbling as it loses any wind to keep it afloat. Finally, it settles in a heap of cloth.

I limp over to it. It's roughly on the same level as me, just a little while away from where I landed. My foot finds difficulty navigating the rocky terrain. I stretch my arms as I walk, glad to not have to use them to hug Chris anymore. It got tiring after a while.

I search Chris's body for any supplies. I try to ignore the dried blood on his neck and face. I stare at his chest, his sides, anything but his eyes. His eyes are staring into me, even though I know that they can't see.

The ax that killed him is long gone, fallen out while he floated I suppose. As far as supplies go, he has a machete strapped by his side. A small backpack is tucked inside his jacket. I take the materials and my own things and pool them on the ground.

A bag of trail mix; it's full of nuts and berries and other energy sustaining foods. A bottle of water; I could definitely use this. There's a pack of matches. I open it to find only four of the precious fire-starters. I'll need to ration those. Some meat; not sure what animal, and I really don't care. It's cooked too, so I don't need to worry about any disease. There's a long coil of rope. Not sure what I could use that for, but it couldn't hurt. There's one more water bottle, this time empty. The machete that Chris carried. And knives.

The knives are my prize. The reason I risked my life in the bloodbath. The knives are a sort of safety net; I've been using them for my entire life so they feel comfortable to me. I take one out and stroke the tip. A bead of blood pools out of my finger. It's sharp enough to kill easily. Perfect for slitting throats, or stabbing someone, or gashing a wound in a body. Those ideas, once so entertaining, now seem repulsive.

I put on the belt. It fits me nicely, so I wonder if it was in the Cornucopia intended for my use. After all, I'm the only tribute who specializes in throwing knives.

Around the belt, in little loops, are little pockets where the knives go. There are 23 altogether. One per tribute. The Gamemakers weren't subtle with that at all. I test it out. I grab a knife from the belt and whirl it at all nearby rock. It's perfect. Safe for me, secure in positioning, easy to reach. It won't fall off if I'm in a fight. It's my essential piece of equipment.

My delight at my survival fades more and more as the sky deepens in color. After all, I'm on my own with no allies. I'm in a terrain I know nothing about. I saved a tribute's life for no reason. I'm weak. I can't kill anyone, not in cold blood anyway. And isn't that what being a Career is all about?

And my leg...

Gritting my teeth, I grip the arrow shaft in my hand. I close my eyes. One. Two. Three. I try not to scream as I rip out the arrowhead. The pain is instantaneous and intense, but at least now it's over. Dark blood bubbles up as the wound is painfully exposed to open air. As I throw the arrow aside I can't help but notice a piece of red flesh stuck to the tip.

The sudden symbolism of the arrow strikes me suddenly. I stare at the blood-red weapon. I didn't see who shot me, but I know who it was. Only one person was supposed to claim the bow. Only one person was accurate enough to hit my thigh.

Mara.

She must have been out to kill me. I try to think back to the weapons in the Cornucopia. There was only one bow. I'm sure of it. And right before I got shot, I saw Mara searching for a weapon, obviously the bow, or maybe arrows to load it. She must have seen me spare Jasmine's life and then decide to kill me for my mercy.

I scoff. Mercy. How about weakness? I didn't save Jasmine; I just prolonged her life slightly. There's no point in saving people, twenty-three tributes will still die. Nothing I can do will change that.

Well I guess that she planned this from the start. Her and Thorn. Thorn orchestrated everything; he must have been part of it. When she got mad at me she must have let me back into the alliance to lure me in a false sense of security. Only to kill me at the bloodbath.

I don't care that Mara doesn't have a family. I don't care what happened to her or why she's her. I can't bear the thought of her winning.

That's just it, I guess. Winning. I said winning. The correct term is more like surviving. I have training not to lose. Of course. The word 'lose' is a euphemism for dead. Killed, murdered, sacrificed, slayed, executed. Use whatever word you want.

Twenty-three losers. Twenty-three dead children. One winner. One survivor.

With the night blackening and the light gone from the arena, the Capitol music starts to play. The glorious anthem, which I once held in such high regard, now sounds pathetic to my ears. Watching the Hunger Games on TV is one thing. The tributes die, year after year. But seeing it firsthand is different. Much different. When I was on top of the tower and saw the battlefield, I didn't see glorious champions fighting in a pageant of honor. I saw children being killed. By my own allies, my friends.

Now I'm about to see which ones died.

I feel a brief flutter of fear for Toren, but I try to quell it. He'll be fine. Unless Mara betrayed him too.

First comes Dominic, from 3. I shudder as I remember his mangled body. Then Chris; it's bizarre to see his face in the sky and have his corpse lie a few feet away from me. Aurora, from Six. Bobbin, from Eight. Matthew and Samantha from Nine. And then Gloria from 12.

That's it. Seven faces. Seven names. Seventeen left to play.

It's much worse when I know their names. Back in District Four, the dead were just faces, devoid of meaning. Now they were names. Now I had memories of them. How Gloria would snort as she laughed. The fear Dominic constantly had of his impending death. Matthew's obvious crush on Samantha.

They are more than faceless tributes. They are people. They're people, just like me. They might have been my friends, if given the chance. But their deaths are being glamorized by the Capitol. The people in the richer Districts will be entranced with the idea of victory. The idea that they could be the victor, if only they trained hard enough.

I know, because I was one of those people.

But all that's over now. I'm alone in a vast arena with no one on my side. I'm too weak to kill. No sponsor will dare give me gifts. I am completely, utterly, and entirely alone.

I try to ignore the sightless eyes of Chris staring into me. He's dead now, Annie. Nothing you can do about it. But even so, I turn my head away from him, as if he can still see me.

Twenty-four hours ago, I was happy for my chance to kill. Delighted. So much can change in so little time.

I curl up on the cold, hard ground. My body aches away as I struggle to get comfortable. My head is resting on one of the backpacks, but other than that, there is nothing between me and the rock. I ignore the aching pain in my leg. Harder even, I ignore the thought of my bloodbath performance. Today was supposed to be the most important day of my entire life. In a way, it was. I learned who I really am: a weak, pathetic, girl who has only days left to live.

Shut up, Annie. You're not helping anything. You're not out of this yet.

I need to focus on sleep now; I need to push these diseased thoughts out of my mind. I'm safe for now -no one landed close enough to me to pose a threat-, but tomorrow…tomorrow, I will be in a fight for survival.

For the first time in my life, I'm not confident on my victory.


	14. Chapter 13: Perils of the Arena

"Uh...arghhhhh." The gurgle that comes out of my throat as I wake sounds like a dying elephant. Lethargy overcomes my body. My eyes blearily open, despite my cravings to go back to sleep. Sunlight seeps into my eyes as I gaze into the noontime zenith of the sun. I-

What?! Noon?

The panic gives me a burst of energy to scramble to a sitting position. It can't be noon! I should have woken up by sunrise! It's the arena! Every moment is life-or-death; I can't waste time sleeping!

I guess my refined District Four body clock is still going strong. As a wealthy member of a wealthy District, I had never woken up early in my life before the Capitol. And now I'm starting to pay for that habit.

I rub my sore muscles before I stand. Sleeping on rocks hasn't done my back any favors. I try as best I can to get the gravel out of my hair. Who cares? My appearance ceased to matter when I entered the arena.

A twinge in my leg catches my attention. I roll up my pants to find the wound from the arrow.

It's not good. The flesh is a dark black around the edges. A crust of dried, I don't know what it is exactly, pus oozes out of the wound. The wound is angry and red when it is exposed to the air. Green and purple hues spread out from the injury.

I don't know much about healing, but I do know that if it's not treated, I will get very, very sick.

I reach in my bag for my water bottle and open it carefully. There's some more water left in it from last night. Clenching my teeth to try to deter the imminent pain, I dribble some precious drinking water onto the wound.

The reaction is quick and painful. The throbbing in my leg intensifies into a raging anguish, like poking a sleeping dragon. It roars for a second, and then dulls into an intensive throbbing once again. Once the water clears, it looks a little better. I take one of my knives and cut myself a strip of cloth from my pants. I tie it around my thigh, just above the injury. I don't know why, but I saw Gloria try it out at the training center. I think that it's supposed to help the injury mend. I finish with the knot. It's just tight enough to remind it's there, but not painful enough to hurt me.

I stand up and test it out. Just like I thought, the leg is weak and unsupportive. But I have no other choice but to get moving. I'm just a few feet away from a huge blue parachute: an easy target for hunting tributes like Mara. And I know that she will be hunting for me now.

A gurgle rumbles in my core. Gosh I'm hungry. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning. Even though I have enough nutrients for four days, I still feel the hunger. I know I shouldn't, but I gobble down half of my trail mix. I feel refreshed instantly.

I'm about to go back to the parachute to check for any last minute supplies when I hear a sound. My ears perk up and my senses go on high alert. My eyes lock in on a moving target. I dive behind a large boulder, ignoring my aching side.

I peer around the corner, fearing the worst. I take a knife from my belt. Mara must have caught up to me, with her alliance. She probably saw me escape and followed my parachute down. So stupid! I should have ditched it last night. Now her and Sheen and Sasha and Thorn and –dare I say it?—Toren were probably combing the site for their former ally. I'm too injured to run, too weak to fight.

But my eyes alight not on Careers but on a small tribute. He looks uncertainly around, wary of danger. When he turns his head towards me, I recognize him as Joshua, the boy who sat next to me on the ride here. He was so scared as we buckled into the hovercraft. I see the same fear now, as he searches for any danger.

He picks up the bloody arrow that was in my thigh last night and pockets it. I see him pick up another gleaming weapon. Shoot! I left the machete next to Chris's body. That reminds me, where is his body? Both the corpse and the harness are gone. I guess the Gamemakers must have taken him in the night.

Joshua is still here, but he lowered his machete, which I guess is his weapon now. He's not well supplied; I only see a few packages of food and nothing else. He handles the machete poorly. He obviously has very little experience with it, and therefore is weak with it. I could kill him easily. I'm within range of throwing a knife to maim him. Then I could run closer and stab him in the jugular. Easy.

But that feeling comes back; the one from the bloodbath. His death would be so easy, so quick. A part of me urges me to kill him. Do it. Now. But then there's this subtle shift in my perception. Before, I saw him as competition. Now, I see him as a lost and scared boy who wants more than anything to be home.

And still, killing him would do me very good. On a logical level, I know that it would increase my chances of winning. And Joshua doesn't have a chance; he's too small and weak to actually make it far. If I kill him, I could possibly make up for saving Jasmine. Either way, no matter what I do, no matter how hard, I try 23 tributes will die. I can only hope that the one person left is me. And killing Joshua would be the first step.

Nevertheless, I can't stop myself from sheathing the knife gripped in my hand.

Joshua, finished with his search, continues to climb down the mountain. My eyes look up. Further up is a bright orange spot, something I must have missed last night. He must have camped by his parachute and snuck down this morning. As I watch him disappear from view, I wonder about his end goal.

I think about my strategy. Scylla never prepared me for being by myself. In some ways, I'm helpless. But I have to push on.

I walk out from behind the rock I was hiding behind. My muscles ache. Every step sends shoots of pain up my leg, but it's manageable. I shake out my body, trying to rid myself of the lethargy that comes with just waking up. I strap my backpack on my back and feel my body react the strain. I examine my surroundings.

For one thing, if I go up the mountain, I will have closed myself off. It will be hard to flee or to move much at all. But I will also be further away from most other tributes, offering relative safety. But descending this slope will put me closer to food, water, and an open ground to travel quickly. But, I am more likely to run into other tributes.

I choose the less risky alternative: hiking up the mountain.

* * *

The sun is about three-fourths across the sky by the time I take a break. My legs are aching like crazy. I judge I've been hiking for about four hours or so. My breathing comes out in ragged gasps and I have to repeatedly wipe the sweat off my brow. I feel like the sun is pounding on my body with its harsh rays. I take off my black jacket and tie it around my waist.

My thigh is worse. Much worse. The strip of cloth I put around my leg is still tight, but it's beginning to smell. It aches painfully, pumping messages to my brain that tells me to take care of it somehow. But I have no way of doing that. I resign to simply ignoring the pain.

I gulp down large sips of water before I remember where I am. Unhappily, I pull back the bottle from my lips. I don't have anywhere near enough fluids to drink enough to satisfy myself. A parched throat is better than a lack of water. I have to ration it for later.

I stare out at the arena. From my spot, I have a great view, and I can take in much more than from my chaotic fall down. It's huge this year. The Tower looks like it is three miles or so away. There's a big range of mountains extending around the arena; encompassing us all. I'm on one of them closest to the Tower. Directly in front of me is a large flat piece of land. Still rocky terrain, but not mountainous. It goes on all the way to the base of the Tower. The desert stretches out in the right of my vision.

I sit on the tough ground. I guess here is as good a place as any to set up camp. I'm almost to the top of the mountain. Too much more would be futile.

Colorful dots speckle the ground in front of me. The parachutes, which I missed in last night's darkness, are spread out at random. None of them are next to each other. Everyone's on their own.

That fact relieves me in some way. If everyone is divided, it only increases my chance of winning. There are few people in this arena that I would have difficulty taking on one-on-one. If the alliances are void, then I could make it very far, maybe even win.

My spirits lifted somewhat, I begin setting up camp. It's my second day in the arena. The second day of cold grounds, aching bodies, and empty stomachs.

I limp around, gathering rocks and things to camouflage myself. I chose this spot for the large boulder that sticks out from the ground like a sore thumb. There's a small space beneath it; just enough for a small girl it fit in.

I sit outside for the rest of the night. I snack on my meat, musing at the taste. Chicken? Pork? It doesn't really matter. I sip on my water sparingly. I reflect on my time in the Games.

It's a pretty boring few hours.

The cannons I expect never come. No one's died today. The arena is huge; probably big enough for tributes to hide out for a while. My life would be easier if there were deaths today. Every few days without a death or a fight, the Gamemakers send in reinforcements. Nothing I can do about that now except be prepared.

As the last trickle of sunlight eases from the horizon, I crawl into my alcove. The little trench I dug makes it easy to get under the boulder. I take my supplies and stash them to my side. It's tight, but cozy in a way. The dark damp space is pressing against me in every direction. They dig into me uncomfortably, but it's preferable to being exposed in the open. I wonder why it's like this. I shudder when I realize it could be an animal's den. But I'm here now... and I have knives.

I drift off into the embrace of sleep. It takes time. The rocks dig annoyingly into my sides. I can't roll around at all. But I do get to sleep eventually.

* * *

I jolt awake, every sense alert. I thrash about, scrambling in a blind panic. My hands claw at the rocks that surround me.

There's a horrible roaring my ears: a grinding, a crashing, and a grating. It reverberates from everywhere and nowhere. The ground beneath me and above me is shaking. I scream as I realize my predicament: earthquake.

Trapped in this tiny space, I search for an exit. My fingers look for a way out, an escape from the crushing rock above me. My eyes are useless in the middle of the night. The ground is a chaos, and I am confined in it.

My hand bursts through an opening. Yes! I grip onto a rock and pull myself out. Abs hurting, I ease my head through the egress. Shit! I forgot my supplies.

My left hand dives back into the hole to grab the backpack. Gripping it securely, I scramble to escape.

I finally pull myself through the hole just as it collapses. The shaking ground causes me to fall over. The bag slips from my grip. I hold onto a nearby stone as I wait out the earthquake.

The grinding noise halts suddenly. The ground stops moving.

I'm safe.

I check my body all over. Scrapes on my legs, bruises on my arms. I'm in tremendous pain, but nothing that won't heal.

I feel the urge to cry, to let out all of the misery of the last few days. My body has been in a constant state of pain. I've never been this afraid in my life. My weakness has been shown to the whole nation. Everyone in District Four has probably labeled me as a failed excuse of a tribute.

I breath out heavily. I take one moment to feel afraid. To feel fear for mutts, for tributes, for Careers, for failure, for disgrace. For death.

But my hands wipe the salty drops off my face. They're only teardrops. I resolve myself and stand up.

I have a Game to win.


	15. Chapter 14: Predator

**Sorry it's been a while since my last update; I'm busy with the end of the school year rapidly approaching. Don't worry though, the next chapter will be up much sooner than usual. I am getting ready for a big plot twist in the coming chapters, so the pace will start to pick up, I promise. Anyway, I still LOVE it when you write reviews, so please do so: it would make my day. Enjoy the chapter!**

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I'm hurrying down the mountain in a panicky state of mind.

My backpack is strapped to my shoulders. My minimal supplies jangle around inside it as I scurry down the slope. My hands check my hips for my knife belt. Content my weapons are still there, I continue on. The darkness is merely an obstacle. I am in too much danger to wait until morning.

After the initial quake when I escaped from the boulder, I searched for as many of my objects as I could. I found my empty water bottle smashed to bits under a boulder. Some of my meat was missing in the dark. But I got everything else.

My eyes hindered, I stuffed everything I could into my pack. It wasn't safe there anymore. The earthquake had dislodged many rocks. Avalanches were coming. So I took everything I had and took off down the mountain.

About five minutes later, the second one hit. It was much softer, but still potent. I was sent tumbling down into the hard rocks below. My knees and hands scraped, I waited out the quick shaking. The darkness was pressing down on me like a blanket. I gripped the rocks tightly, even though the motion shot spikes of pain into my arm. Once the shaking stopped, I got up and kept running.

Another one hits me, right now. My foot stumbles over a rock as the earth moves. I fly through the air. For a moment, I'm weightless. Then the ground comes up to greet me.

The impact is hard. My hands are scraped from the rough stones. My whole body shudders. But worse still is my injured thigh. I scream out in agony as I feel a spire of earth digging into it. The pain is striking. My hands clutch at the injury, trying to somehow suck out the agony.

But as the instant pain passes, the fear returns. I screamed. Out loud. In an arena where the tributes are almost certainly awake.

My breathing is hard and heavy as I blindly make sure that I haven't lost any supplies in my fall. I force myself to get to my feet. My whole body aches, but I ignore that as much as I can. My scream alerted anyone in a few miles radius of my presence. The stronger tributes, Holly and Titus could be searching for me right now. And I know for sure Mara and whatever alliance she has is desperately trying to kill me. I need to flee.

My leg feels like it's on fire. I make sure my makeshift tourniquet is still in place. I stand on my right leg, favoring my injured thigh. I limp quickly down the slope, wincing at every other step. I feel liquid running down my pants. Great, the wound just reopened. There's no time to retie the bandage.

I whip my head behind me, searching for danger. I can only see a few feet in every direction. My eyes dart around, soaking in the details. Nothing but boulders and gravel.

But there could be someone stalking me at this very moment. The thought is enough to send me running even faster.

I pull a knife out of my belt as I go down the mountain. The blade glints with the light from the moon. I run my fingers over the handle, feeling the tough leather holding it in place. The weight of it in my hand comforts me. Let them come. I will be waiting.

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It's not until the sun has completely risen that I calm down and slow from a run to a walk. No one came after me in the night. I'm still safe. But I didn't feel safe at all in the five hours that I ran down the mountain. I had alerted the whole mountain range to my presence; I'm surprised I didn't get jumped by some of my former allies.

Now I'm at the base of the mountain. The ground is much flatter here. The rocks and boulders are still strewn about lazily, but the steep incline I've become used to is gone. Staring up at the mountain, I realize just how far I've traveled.

I hike my backpack back on my shoulders and survey my surroundings. There's a flat area a few miles ahead of me, with less boulders everywhere. Plus, there is the familiar color of green covering the rocks. It could be moss or shrubs or something.

Before I start walking, I open my pack and take out the last of my meat. I chew the tough, dry flesh hungrily. My stomach was rumbling all the way down the mountain. I don't know how effective Scylla's food tablet was, but it's better to eat my food. I don't think I can ignore my cravings any longer.

The more I walk, the better my leg feels. Without the steep mountain to hurt it, the exercise stretches it out and makes the pain subside to a dull ache. My muscles start loosening up after a while. The walking, a nice break from running, feels soothing to me. I was sitting around doing nothing the past few days; it's a relief to be moving again.

The ground gradually shifts from a hard rock to a more welcome environment. Bushes start popping up instead of boulders. Clinging vines cradle the ground. There's even some wildlife here, I see a few rabbits munching on some root plants.

Of course, it's not a forest. I can still see a long ways in each direction. The land is still flat and largely barren. But the cumbersome rocks are starting to go away. And there's even a-

A river! Checking to make sure that no one is around, I sprint to the heavenly source of water. It's small and narrow, but the water flows fast and pure. I can see the riverbed below filled with smooth pebbles, even some fish swimming along. The river is perfectly clear. It must have flowed down from a mountain spring.

I take out my empty water bottle. I drank the last few precious drops on the way down the mountain. My other one was destroyed. Looking both ways as I was taught (for you are most vulnerable when you are distracted), I plunge the cylinder into the cold water. The biting cold against my hand makes it feel revived from the lukewarm sweat it has been gathering all this time.

I take out the bottle and prepare to drink. I know that it's risky, but I don't have another choice. I'll start feeling the effects of dehydration soon. I have nothing to purify the water with. Better to drink it now and possibly get sick later than to start losing energy now.

The water rushing down my throat feels amazing. The salt from the meat and the trail mix made my mouth dry and parched. The water feels like nectar from the gods. I don't realize that I've finished the whole bottle until I'm shaking the empty tube above my head, waiting for more divine drops to fall into my mouth. Barely satisfied, I refill the bottle and put the cap back on.

I'm putting the bottle back into my pack when a noise startles me. Suddenly scared, I whip out my knife and drop my backpack. The loud thunk as it hits the ground alerts whatever it is to my presence. Stupid! I need to be quiet.

But the noise turns out to only be a small bird poking at some berries in a bush near the stream.

My instant relief is punctuated by a lifting feeling of opportunity. That small animal over there, that little bird, is food.

As the bird pecks around, completely oblivious to me, I consider how I will kill it. If I throw a knife now, it'll just fly away. If I go any closer, it will know I'm here. I don't know how to set a trap. I can't get it to come any closer.

I scoop up a rock from the ground. I bounce it in my left hand. This has to be done carefully. I hold my right hand behind my head and get ready. I toss the pebble towards the bird, making sure it lands a few feet away. There's a sharp crack as it hits the ground, and the bird stops eating and flies away in a panic. I throw my dagger, taking note of the path of flight.

With a thud, the bird falls to the ground.

I rush over to claim my prize and gather my knife. The bird's heart is still pumping; blood is running down the feathers. I slit the throat to end its misery.

I feel like a predator. This is my first kill in the arena. I hope cameras are on me now, to see me at my best. This might win back some potential sponsors. As I start to clean my kill, I feel a smile spreading across my face.

Cleaning the bird takes up the rest of the morning. I make a mess of it too; blood and guts are sprayed all over the rock on which I'm working. The feathers float down to the ground in a bloody spiral as my dainty knives work on the carcass. Finally, I have strips of meat. Not much, since the animal was small. But enough for a few days.

I wash out the meat in the river. There are still some feathers and things on it, but that goes away quickly. I head a little ways up the river with all of my supplies. Wild animals might come for the extra blood from the bird, and I don't want any company. Especially any with claws.

Now, I need to cook the meat. It's too risky to start a fire because the whole arena will see the smoke. But a few years ago, I saw a boy from District 10 cooked meat by laying it on some hot rocks. That was the desert year, but I think this arena is hot enough to try the same thing.

A long flat boulder by the river is where I make camp. I toss my supplies underneath. I lay the strips of meat on top of the rock. The sun can bake it. Hopefully it will be done by the end of the day. I haven't seen any predatory birds in the arena, so I think it should be safe from animals. Hopefully.

Stashing most of my supplies, except my knives, and the meat in a place hard to reach by the river, I sit down on a rock nearby. I stretch out my leg, feeling solace in taking a break from moving. I close my eyes and splash some water in my face. This is good.

I have a sudden urge to go swimming, just take off my clothes and jump in. It would calm me, just like it always does in District 4. The water against my bare skin, pounding on my body. It would ease the pain of the arena. But of course, I can't. Way too risky.

But I can't stop myself from wading into the river. Feeling the cold against my bare feet still feels awesome. Goosebumps arise on my flesh. A few fish swim around my legs. I wiggle my toes around in the mud. This feels just like District 4.

I cross the river and begin to dry in the sunlight. The warmth is pleasant on my skin. Still, I keep alert for any danger. This part of the arena is very pleasant, but I keep one hand on my belt at all times. Beauty can be deadly. The 50th Hunger Games were an example of that; everything in that arena was gorgeous...but also a threat.

Gazing down, the mud by my feet has a footprint in it. That wouldn't be a big deal, except the print is unmistakably from a boot. My feet are bare.

Slinging on my shoes, which I've been holding in my left hand, I follow the boot prints. They start in the mud and continue on, heading away from the river. Once they hit the rocks, I can barely follow. There are smudges of mud here and there, but not much.

The trail seems to have gone cold when I see broken branches from a bush. I scurry next to it. There are some bright red berries, not many still on the plant. Someone must have eaten from here. Broken twigs on the ground confirm my suspicions.

Looking around, I can see who it was. Joshua. He's about a mile ahead of me, trying to remain inconspicuous as he scavenges for food. Obviously he fails. It's hard to hide in this flat arena.

I'm low on food, even with my bird, so it might be a good idea to see where he's going.

The next ten minutes or so are spent hiking up to where Joshua is. I again feel like a predator stalking my prey. I hope cameras are watching me now. Using my observations of the environment, I trace his path through the rocks. A broken branch here, a footprint here, an empty berry bush here. Who knew I could be good at this? Tracking is usually a skill given to tributes from 10 or 11.

Purely by skill (but if I'm being honest, chance had a lot to do with it), I stumble onto an empty flat area with boulders, most of which are taller than me, around it. The ground here is devoid of plants and all but the smallest rocks. Looking around, it looks like a giant fireplace; rocks on all sides and a flat middle area.

I see boot prints all over, just the same as Joshua's. This must be where he camps. My suspicions are confirmed when I see supplies piled up by the side, poorly hid with a few leaves.

I check them out. Now he actually has some decent things. A shield, a machete (Chris's machete, I remind myself), water bottles, a box of fruit, and a huge pile of berries.

I wonder where he got everything. The berries were easy; he's from District 7, a nature district, so he gathered them easily. Still, there are a lot, so it must have taken him all day. But he didn't have any of the others things with him when I saw him yesterday. Joshua must have found them somewhere; it's unlikely he has that many sponsors. Maybe he came across a parachute with supplies attached? Or he stole them from someone's campsite. Either way, he's starting to become very well equipped.

I'm a little hungry again, and those berries look tempting. I don't want Joshua to know I was here though. Then he'll relocate away and I won't see him again. There are numerous advantages to having a weaker tribute nearby: I can steal food, I can follow him to find out which berries are safe to eat (I trained in edible plants, but I forgot most of my knowledge), I will be alerted to other tributes. If someone dangerous comes nearby, they'll probably find him first, which will warn me of their presence. If the Gamemakers decide to spice things up by sending in mutts or more quakes, they might go for Joshua first. I've seen it happen before. It's a strategy employed by tributes who are on their own and don't want to kill. Never thought I'd be one of those people.

Nevertheless, I scoop up some berries and gobble them down. The bright, sour taste bursts across my tongue. I take some more and put them in my jacket pocket. I arrange the pile to make sure that it looks as though no one took any.

As I leave the campsite, I see branches break on the other side. Joshua's coming back. I duck behind a boulder, just like yesterday. He strides across the campsite with a bag of more food he's collected. He sits by his supplies and empties the bag into the pile. Good, he didn't notice my theft.

I know it would probably be better to kill him, but for the third time in as many days, I can't bring myself to do it. I feel a little protective of Joshua, for some odd reason. I just see a scared boy who just wants to live. He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve to have people hunting him. People whom I wanted so desperately to be just a few days ago.

I turn to run away filled with a hint of regret.

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That night, after the sun goes down and I am fast asleep by the river, a cannon goes off.

But I, enveloped in my dreams and sleeping soundly by myself, take no notice of the death. Nor the horrible impact it would have on me tomorrow when I find out who it was.


	16. Chapter 15: Prey

**Just a warning, this chapter is graphic, gory, and contains violence. I'm not saying you shouldn't read it, but you've been warned. **

**Please continue to review; it makes my day. Honestly. **

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The soothing rumble of the river wakes me up.

Getting up and stretching, I am pleased that dawn is just now starting to break. I guess I'm starting to get rid of my bad sleeping habits.

With the sun painting the mountains with its plethora of colors, and the river lapping pleasantly behind me, it's hard not to feel at peace.

I start to do my morning routines. I check to make sure all of my supplies are here, and they are. My bird meat dried well yesterday. I take a bite; it tastes undercooked, but cooked enough that I won't get any diseases from it. I force myself to eat a little more for breakfast, then save the rest for later.

I count all my knives and stow them away in my belt. I drink long sips from my water bottle and fill it up to the brim. I take a second to wash my face in the river. I tie my hair back in a bun with some twine from my backpack, making sure that it's not in my eyes. Then I put on my pack.

Where to? I had never considered the boring aspect of the Games. Sitting around and doing nothing had never occurred to me. When I saw the Hunger Games on TV, they only show the interesting bits. Not the parts about tributes lazily sitting down. Plus, I had always thought I would have allies to talk to.

I decide to go see Joshua again. I can see which plants he's eating from, and be more knowledgeable about finding food. I'll need that later in the Games. Plus, I might be able to steal more food.

As I walk across the river, I notice that my leg is healing. I splash some water on it to remove the pus that comes from it. The wound is looking less diseased, and it's starting to heal well. The infection has been going down a little. The pain is much less annoying too. much more manageable.

I walk for a good ten minutes. I'm not exactly sure where it is. My sense of direction isn't that good. Let's see, yesterday I walked in the direction of the Tower, correct? I experiment with a few different paths, trying to find the right one. At one point I'm going around in circles. But then I see a boulder I recognize, and I stumble into the campsite.

I take careful precautions to avoid being seen. I creep behind some bushes and peer around to look for other tributes. After about a minute, I don't hear anything, so I step forward slowly. I think Joshua's gone for food again. I walk around the boulders that surround his campsite.

Trails of rust-colored blood lie across the campsite. It's completely dry. Covering my mouth in surprise, I step into the area. Broken branches and a spear scatter the place. A fight went on here. I see a bloody rock lying on its side. A violent one.

I walk further inside, taking out my knife. I don't hear any noises, so I don't think anyone is here. But I could be wrong. It could be a mistake to be here; a dangerous tribute is most likely nearby. But I want to know what happened to Joshua. There's a sort of kinship between us, something I can't explain. Or maybe I'm just going crazy.

I look over where Joshua had his supplies yesterday. There's an awful lot of blood here. Some of it hasn't dried yet, so my shoes are sticky with the residue. I see boot prints and drag marks in the blood. Passing by the pile of supplies, I follow the trail. It looks like someone dragged a bleeding body through here. I grip my knife securely and step around the boulder.

What I see next will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Joshua's body lies on the ground. He's dead. No doubt about it. His neck is ripped open with blood splattered about. A knife slash that looks like a smile gorges right under his chin, grinning malevolently at me. His machete is by his side; obviously the weapon. Vomit surges in my mouth as I gaze down at his body. My mouth opens in a silent scream.

His chest is bare, covered only in blood. His ribcage has been ripped open savagely; I can see the white bone protruding from his body with twisted malice. Blood and bits of gore are smeared on his flesh. I see what looks like bite marks on the body, right around his heart cavity. His lungs are nothing more than broken bits of flesh. Chunks of human tissue drip blood. His heart is missing. His heart is missing.

I try not to throw up. I can't look at it anymore; I turn away. It looks like a savage animal mauled him and ate his heart. Would the Gamemakers do that?

A horrible thought crosses my mind. Was Joshua alive or dead when... this happened?

I push that out of my head. I have to be strong. I have to. All the cameras are on me now, watching my reaction. I swallow my bile and compose myself. I turn away, but not before picking up the machete. The weapon that brutally killed Joshua.

Titus is standing right behind me.

My reflexes are faster than his. I have already dived behind a rock by the time he raises his spear. I crouch near the ground. No time to think, just act. It's obvious that Titus is Joshua's killer, and he wants to do the same to me. He wants to...feed on me.

I grip my knife as tightly as I can. I don't want to fight him; I'm injured, weaker, and I think he has better weapons than me. I have no idea what he's capable of. I need to escape.

I stand up fiercely and throw my knife directly at his chest. That was exactly what he was expecting though. As it spins forcefully throw the air, he ducks down. I sprint away, taking advantage of the distraction. I don't bother looking back- I know he's hunting me like I am his prey.

Nimbly dashing around a boulder, I burst into Joshua' former campsite. My feet hit the ground frantically. My arms are pumping and my heart is racing in fear. I can feel the adrenaline.

With a roar, Titus emerges behind me, far faster than I anticipated. I see him set his feet and raise his small spear. When he throws it, I hit the ground instantly.

I drop so quickly it seems as though I tripped. I brace my hands for the impact and groan when the rocks dig into my palms. The javelin whizzes over my head. I dodged it perfectly.

I scramble to get to my feet. My legs are under me when Titus catches up. He punches me in the stomach and I fall to the ground, this time against my will. I choke down the pain as he climbs on top and pins me to the ground. Titus takes his spear in one hand and prepares to plunge it into my head.

"No!" I grunt. I hold my machete and slice it at his hand. He drops the weapon with a gasp of pain. I tighten my arm and whip it at him. My elbow connects with his nose and there's a cracking sound.

I get up as Titus falls off me in pain. Barely able to breathe, I stagger away. I clutch my side. I take out another knife and see Titus rolling on the ground in anguish. Fight or flight kicks in.

I run over to the tribute, who has his back to me. Gripping my knife like a sword, I stab downwards, right at his neck.

With lightning reflexes Titus turns to face me and knocks the knife out of my hand with his foot. He grabs the back of my hand and twists it behind me. "AH!" I scream. He pushes me away and I tumble down. I hit the ground on my back, unable to stop my fall.

He grasps at my ankle violently and I kick him once to get him to stop. But he grabs my calf in an iron grip and doesn't let go. He starts to drag me closer to him. I can see he only has the machete as a weapon now that his spears are gone. The machete with Titus's fresh blood covering up Joshua's dried blood from last night.

I search for a weapon. My knives don't have enough length to reach him. But I'm right next to Joshua's pile of supplies. I splay my fingers out searching for something to take. Titus is growling as he struggles to hold me down.

Finally I have something in my hand. My fingertips are just close enough to-

Titus slams his fist onto my injury. The pain explodes like bomb throughout my body. For a second, there's nothing I can comprehend except the agony that vibrates in my leg. Tears pour out of my eyes. My mouth is open as I scream into the air, not caring who hears me.

But anger comes back from my outburst. My scream turns into a roar. I grab the object I was reaching for -a shield- and heave it at Titus as hard as I can. The metal clangs against his forehead. With him distracted by pain, I kick myself free and stand up.

Throwing my head from side to side, I make my escape. I'm limping severely, so I can't move quickly. I hold the shield and keep it close. With my other hand, I grip my third knife. I half run half jog past the boulders that mark the exit of the campsite. My heart is pounding. I push away the pain that tells me to stop running, to stop fleeing and to attend to my wounds. No time for that.

As I leave, Titus is already on his feet and slowly regaining his weapons.

I press myself on, traveling as fast as I possibly can. My leg pounds in pain with every step. Not an aching pain that I can ignore, but a deep sharp pain. I grit my teeth. Nothing I can do about it.

I'm in a state of panic. Titus is surely after me, I can tell by the roars he makes as he searches for his spears. Why should he hurry? I have nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. I'm injured and can't go far. I am his prey; he can hunt me as he pleases.

A bush here, a boulder here. The path here. The landmarks I know are gone. I'm lost. I spin in circles, struggling to find my direction. My throat rasps more breath into me, desperate for oxygen. My pulse is through the roof.

Suddenly I make myself stop breathing and stand completely still. No movement. Nothing but the calls of birds and the whistle of the wind. I concentrate on listening. A few hundred yards away, I can hear Titus trampling through the arena, hunting for me. I close my eyes and listen closer. There! I open my eyes. I hear the purr of the river.

My energy reinvigorated, I push myself to go harder and harder. My feet pound against the rocks. I glance behind me and see Titus getting closer and closer. My whole body feels like giving up. But that would mean death.

The more I run the more I can hear the roaring of the river. But Titus is also closer. Glancing behind me, I can see him out of the corner of my eye. I dash behind a boulder to keep him off my tracks. My leg protests the maneuver, but I push it away as always. He isn't far behind me. I estimate I have twenty seconds.

I hobble along to the river, which is starting to get really loud. It's my only chance of escape. He's right behind me, I can feel it. I burst around a boulder and see the river. It's twenty yards away. I make a split second decision and dive behind the boulder for protection.

I remain completely and utterly silent.

Titus charges right past me. He's changed in the arena; I can see that plain as day. His hair is ratty and matted with blood. His fingers twitch still, but more than ever. But there's a hunger about him. He seems more alive in here, in the arena where there are no rules. I've seen the same thing with wild animals.

He runs about, searching for me. He looks into the river to check for my body, but of course I'm not there. He turns, pivoting his heel slowly. His slow footsteps are as loud as thunder as he makes his way closer to my hiding place.

"Annie...?" He drags out my name as he searches for me. "Where are you?" His voice, in a creepy falsetto, makes me cringe. "Come out and play..."

He's getting closer to me. I resist the urge to peek my head out from the boulder I'm hiding behind. He'll know I'm here for sure. I strap my shield on silently, waiting for an opportunity to strike. I'll only have one chance. I stop breathing to make sure he can't hear.

Titus draws in one long breath through his nose. He's sniffing. For me. He takes one step closer. Then another. Then another. He knows where I am. I can feel it. "Annie?" He says, his voice carrying over the water. "I'm not going to hurt you. We can be allies. Trust me."

His hand cradles the side of the rock. I stare at it in silent horror. His gnarled fingernails are caked in blood. His fingers twitch with a certain madness. Titus is only one step away. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..."

He turns to face me.

I jump up from my hiding place with a roar. I slam my shield directly at him. I hear a crunch as I make contact with the spear by his side. But I keep going, making the force drag out until I hit the surface of my shield into his face. He reels back.

I take my chance.

I run like I've never run before. Arms pumping. Hard breathing. Leg on fire. I whip a glance behind me and see Titus has the spear in his hand. He prepares to throw-

I jump into the deep river and feel the current take me. The javelin flies by overhead. My weapons and supplies are holding me down, down into the water. I take one deep breath and hope for the best.

I then descend into the river and let nature dictate my movements.


	17. Chapter 16: Mind over Matter

The first swallow of air after holding your breathe tastes like pure pleasure being pumped into your lungs.

I suck up as much oxygen as I can when I break the surface of the river. I gulp in and out air rapidly. The stress on my lungs is gone. My body can function normally again. I can finally breathe.

When I jumped in the river, I dove under the water and stayed there. I let the current take me. I didn't take break the surface. Titus could be searching for me head to aim at. So I tried to stay under as long as possible while the white water dragged me down. I could see nothing but the blurry rocks underneath the water and the green hue of the river.

When I finally felt like my lungs would burst, I tried swimming up. The fierce pull of the river dragged me under. But I didn't live in District Four for seventeen years for nothing. I kicked my legs and waved my arms underwater frantically to swim. And then my head emerged in the open air and I could breath again.

And here I am, trying to stay afloat in the incredibly strong current. It's getting hard to tread water. My backpack and knives are dragging me down. The shield I stole from Joshua's campsite strapped to my arm pretty much makes my left hand useless in the water. But I conclude, as I glance around, Titus is too far up the river to pose a threat. He's disappeared from view entirely. I'm safe from other tributes, at least for now.

Still struggling to swim in the harsh waters, I crawl over to a shore. My arms pump, trying to gain leverage. I breathe heavily as I make sure my mouth is always above the waterline. I kick my legs pitifully against the current, which seems determined to drown me. Finally, my feet find purchase on the bottom, and I walk myself the rest of the way across, dislodging rocks and mud on the riverbed below.

I collapse on the ground once I emerge from the thinning shallows.

Look around, the territory is roughly the same as where I was before. I'm further away from the mountains, as the river runs closer to the Tower. The massive column looms even more conspicuously over the arena. The shrubbery is still here, a little less dense than before. The boulders are bigger here. It makes it harder to see across the terrain.

With my adrenaline beginning to fade once my immediate threats are gone, pain seeps back. I can no longer ignore the open wound on my leg. Nor the multiple bruises or scrapes up my arms. Or every other crappy thing that's happened to me so far.

The bandage on my leg has torn off completely. The river swallowed it whole. It's gone forever. With the binding gone, the flesh is an angry red, flaring in the open air. Titus punched it, and while the initial pain is long gone, horrible bruises are popping up, lengthening my agony. As the water cools, the exposed flesh bruns uncomfortably.

In a surge of violence, I rip off my knife belt and throw it out of my sight. And my shield. i savor the thud as it scrapes against the rocks to my side. I take off my backpack and pound it against the ground. The anger helps calm me, strange as that sounds. I think about Titus and him killing innocent tributes and eating them. I think about the Gamemakers forcing us into this situation. I think about my parents who raised me to become a killer. I think about myself and how I failed to be what they wanted me to become. I'm not a Career. And if I'm not that, then what am I?

With my supplies lying on the ground and my arms in pain from the effort, I cover my face with my hands. Just a moment, just one moment where the cameras can't see me. Where Panem can't dig my weakness. I cover my ears to block out the sound of the raging river and try to envision myself winning the Games. Beating out cannibalistic Titus and shifty Mara and all the other tributes. It's what I want more than anything. I'm just scared that I'm not strong enough to get it.

Taking a deep breath, I return to the present. I dig through my supplies on the ground. I have a little of the bird meat which I scarf down quickly. A full water bottle. My knives, only twenty one left. My matches are ruined by the river so I toss them into the stream. My rope is still here. And my shield.

It's actually a pretty nice piece of equipment. It's circular, lightweight, and strap onto my arm. it stood up well against Titus's attacks. It's gray, so it will blend in well. I slide my finger along the perfectly round edge and am surprised to see blood pool on my fingertip. It's sharp enough to cut, so it can double as a weapon. Handy.

I take off the shield and put it down next to me. I move aside some rocks to get more comfortable. I wait for the water to dry; I'm freezing. I rub my arms to try and warm myself up. But my goosebumps stay up. I squeeze water out of my long black hair and hope it'll evaporate quickly.

But I don't have time to just lay around. This is the Hunger Games after all.

I take my knives, count them, and put them in my belt, which is wrapped snugly around my waist. I strap on my backpack. My shield is next. The extra weight on my arm is annoying, but I will need it at a moment's notice so on my arm it goes. Then I try to stand up, which proves disastrous.

My leg caves in immediately upon standing. My knee buckles as my thigh is simply too weak to carry me. I hit the ground and catch my fall by throwing my hands out in front of me. I groan as the pain sweeps through my body.

This is bad. Really bad. Titus must have hurt it beyond repair. If my injury has progressed to the point where my leg is incapable of walking I am a sitting duck. Mara and her alliance can kill me in a blink of an eye, Titus could eat me as slowly as he pleased, and any tribute from an outlying district could stand a chance of killing me.

I have only one hope left.

"Scylla," I say, turning my head to the clouds, "I need medicine for my leg, enough to help me walk again. Now." I imagine her pressing buttons on that fancy tablet she totes with her everywhere. How much would medicine be on Day 4 of the Games? From previous experience, most Career tributes can afford it. And I was the third hottest betted contestant in the beginning.

Within five minutes a hovercraft appears out of nowhere. My heart leaps with joy as I see it. I had doubts it would come, but here it is! I struggle to sit up as I wait for the parachute. This is it! My hopes have been restored! Now I can finally become a contender again, not hobbled by a lame leg.

But my wide grin fades as the hovercraft zooms over the river and away from me. Where is it going? Quick as a wink, a claw descends from the vehicle and a bloody body is raised from the arena. Joshua. It has to be him. With the dead boy in its grip, the hovercraft vanishes from sight.

My hopes sink further and further and further the longer I wait. No silver parachute comes, no medicine arrives, nothing can help me. The sky remains calm without hovercrafts coming to give me my prize.

That's it then, I guess. My mistake on the first day, heck, the first minute, of the Games has cost me. Because I spared Jasmine, because I showed mercy, I lost my sponsors and any gifts they might bring. I have hit a new low.

No choice but to power through it. I gather my things and strap them on securely. Gosh, this is getting repetitive. Every day, I feel worse and worse. I'm struggling to keep up with Games. I think they're starting to beat me. I've seen it before. Tributes just get weaker and weaker until they die from the arena. I can't end up like that.

But I don't think I can stop it at this point. My body is crumpling at the strain. My bruises scattered on my arms ache more and more. And my wound is infecting my leg. Sponsors won't help me. No one can. There are sixteen of us left; my chances are miniscule.

Stop it, Annie. You're stronger than this. Mind over matter. Mind over matter.

There's a piece of driftwood about thirty yards away from me. It's long and skinny, just like one of Titus's spears. All I have to do is get to it. I grit my teeth as I slowly make myself stand. I balance on one leg while gripping a rock to my left. I keep my injured leg bent as I ascend. Hopping in place to keep from falling, I start to make my way over to the wood.

I only make it with a series of crawling, hopping, and limping. Still, it takes me over ten minutes to make it the short distance. My blood keeps splattering on the rocks below. This is bad. My injury is making it impossible for me to travel quickly or silently and I'm incredibly easy to track.

I wonder if this is what other tributes feel when hunted; like it's only a matter of time until the inevitable.

Propping up the wood, I put my body weight into it. Thankfully, it's strong enough to support me. Leaning on the crutch, I limp on, using the wood as a. Still the wood digs into my side painfully, and it takes a lot of effort to travel only a few steps. But at least I can walk upright now.

I decide to follow the river. It curves in the direction of the Tower, the river widening as it nears the base of the massive column. As I make my steady way along the bank, the sun descends in the sky. Light glints off the Cornucopia on top of the Tower. The empty sky seems mocking of my failed call for a parachute.

The river runs to my right, but in the opposite direction I'm traveling. It's a good idea to stay right by it because I'm stronger in water than most tributes. I can swim across-not easily, but I can do it- to escape hunters. And I can see danger on both sides of the banks.

I've probably been going for...I don't know...a few hours when I see something up ahead. Crackling noises and hushed voices. The smell of burnt meat and the sound of metal glinting on metal. It's not a fight, no, no one's killing right now. It's a tribute making a campfire-more than one by the voices.

I limp forward, away from the river, to see. It's probably not a good idea, but what do I have to lose?

There's a least two people in a campsite fifty yards away. I can only see one right now. A large boy with his back to me, fiddling with some supplies or something. He stands suddenly, and I see a shock of brown hair. When he turns to face I make out who it is: Thorn.

My eyes widen. My palms break out in a cold sweat. I gulp nervously. The other person, who is it? She comes into the picture suddenly, swinging an ax over her shoulder. I'd recognize that red hair anywhere.

Mara.

My first instinct is to run, to flee. To put as much distance between her and I as possible. She's the very person who's been seeking me this whole time. She tried to kill me on the first day and I've been hurt and in pain ever since. I'm about to turn away from I see something.

There's a medical kit resting just beyond the lip of their camp.

That's what I need. If I can heal my leg and get rid of this stupid crutch I could become a competitor again. Maybe sponsors will come back to me. But those supplies are essential for survival.

What's more, I wonder. My fear of Mara or my fear of infection? If I fail to get the med supplies, I'll die slowly unless a miracle happens. If Mara finds me, my death will be quick.

I've already made up my mind.

I'm absolutely silent as I shuffle around. I lean the crutch against a rock and kneel down. I scoop up a pebble on the ground. I flash back to the bird I killed yesterday. This will require the exact same precision.

About fifty yards in front of me, Thorn and Mara are talking around the campfire. There's a bounty of supplies just stacked next to them. A plethora of weapons too. Everything's just piled up behind the campfire. I wonder how they got everything down from the Tower.

From the relaxed way they are sitting, I guess that they are waiting for night to fall before going hunting.

Mara is sharpening an ax, with her back towards my hiding place. Thorn is poking the fire with his spear; not a smart move for someone so intelligent. He'll see me though, if I stand. I wait for just the right moment...Thorn's turning his back...right about...now.

I stand quickly and whip my arm forward. The rock flies out of my grip and over to my right. I duck back down just as quickly when I hear the thud.

Thorn and Mara go absolutely still as they notice the sound of a possible tribute. There's a slight scrambling sound as they both grab weapons. As they leave the campsite, only the slightest sounds of twigs breaking betray their presence.  
This is my chance. I go as fast as I can with one leg and one crutch. Speed is essential. I try not to trip over rocks as I limp around boulders. My right leg, which has been supporting me all this time, is starting to ache from the effort.

I estimate Mara and Thorn are searching for the mystery tribute right now, even though he's not there. I probably only have seconds to find what I need. I move around the campfire, feeling the wonderful heat warm my cold body. I kneel down next to the medical supplies, which is simply a small black bag with a red cross on it.

I open it to find all manner of shots, bandages, ointments, and vials. I don't understand any of it, and I definitely don't have time to read the labels. I take the entire thing and sling it over my shoulder. Time to flee.

I limp as fast as I can outside of the camp. I head in the opposite direction of where Mara and Thorn are currently searching. Hearing their voices as they realize that no one is there is frightening. They're coming back. Now.

I barely make it outside the line of sight when Mara is the first to burst back onto the scene. She throws her ax down just as Thorn comes back too. They're only a few yards away from me. I instantly walk with as much precision and care as I can to make sure they can't hear anything. My feet glide over the ground with as much muffled sound as possible.

"-was there! Are you sure you even heard anything?" Mara exclaims.

I inch slowly away as Thorn replies indignantly, "It's not my fault you're loud enough to scare off every tribute in a one-mile radius!"

Mara sounds mad, "What did you just say?!"

"Sh!"

"Don't shush me!"

"Shut up!" Thorn hisses. And suddenly Mara is quiet. Shee must see what Thorn saw. I know what it is: the missing supplies I stole. Missing supplies means a thief. A thief means a...

"Is there a tribute?" Mara asks quietly. I don't hear anything, so Thorn must have replied nonverbally. In seconds, Mara and Thorn are gathering weapons again, certain there's a tribute nearby. "You go that way!" Mara calls. Oh, now they can work together.

This time, they both run in different directions out of the campsite. They know someone is close, so they are circling the area. It's only a matter of time before I am discovered. Crap, this is bad. All I can hope for is to get out as quickly as I can and hope no one finds me. I start walking again with renewed vigor.

I only make it a few steps when a few twigs break a few yards away. One of them is close. Searching. Hunting. Footsteps betray their presence. Whoever it is isn't trying to be quiet.

I am absolutely still as I take my knife out of my belt. I lower my backpacks to the ground. I walk a few steps over so I can lean against a boulder instead of a rock. I drop my crutch to the ground next to my supplies. I make sure my knives are ready. No point in running. I will have to fight.

I hear my pulse pound as I wait for the signs of the Career. He or she is just behind the boulder. I'm ready. I hold my arm behind me head. Perfect form. All I need is them to take one more step from behind the rock. One more step.

Someone moves and I throw the knife in a spout of aggression. It's a perfect shot. No way it can miss.

My heart skips a beat as the weapon buries itself in Mara's chest.

She looks down. The knife is sticking directly out of her torso, embedded in her breastbone. Mara's mouth widens in pain and shock as she looks at the killing blow. I feel elated. I killed her. I killed Mara. She can't hurt me anymore. I'm finally safe.

I wait for the cannon.

Mara's face doesn't stay on surprise for long. She looks up at me with anger in her eyes. Passion for my death. The fury in her expression makes me quiver. In one quick, fluid motion, she rips the knife out of her breast. She dangles it in front of her, amused at the expression of horror on my face.

"Ouch," Mara says with a wicked grin. "That hurt." She drops the knife to the ground and hefts her mighty ax in front of her. The sun glints on the dagger laying on the ground. There's no blood, no blood on the dagger and no blood in the injury on Mara's body. I look up in terror. What is this thing? What is this thing that should be dead but isn't?

Whatever it is, she's charging me now with intent to kill.


	18. Chapter 17: Revelations

It's only when she's charging me when I realize how she is still alive.

Body armor. She has body armor from head to toe. It's flesh colored, so I didn't notice it. My knife hit the armor instead of her body. As I watch, Mara lowers her face plate over her hair. No she has no weak points. Her eyes are hidden behind two slits in the mask. It's impenetrable.

I panic as she attacks me. I take knife after knife and throw them at her with all the strength I have. She runs at all, undaunted by the weapons. Dozens of them bombard her armor. Some sink into the rock hard armor, some bounce off but none do any damage.

She's only a few feet away when I realize it's not going to work. As she raises her ax for the killing strike, I duck with lightning reflexes. The weapon swings over my head and Mara's thrust forces her forward. I stick out my leg and she tumbles to the ground. That's my one advantage; I'm quicker than she is.

Mara's back on her feet in a flash though, and advancing towards more cautiously. She holds her ax like a baseball bat as she snarls at me. I hold out my knife at arm's length as I pivot on my foot. I can't afford to keep fighting like this. Thorn will hear the noise soon and come to help out his ally.

Mara's circling me. Waiting for me to slip up. Or waiting for Thorn. Stalling the battle. Time is against me; I need to end this now.

"You scared, Mara?" I spit. "Scared of me like the coward you are?" I laugh bitterly.

"That's not going to work on me, Annie." she says. Damn, she's smarter than I thought. "Why don't you come on over here? Something wrong with your leg there?"

I glance down at my injury and try not to look nervous. She sees the weakness. Mara mockingly turns down the corners of her mouth, "Is wittle Annie hurt? Does she need help wike an itty, bitty, baby?" She looks at me with big innocent eyes and she laughs. Oh, I bet the Capitol is loving this right now. I can practically feel all the eyes of Panem watching me and her. Waiting to see my next move.

Mara's too far away for my knife to hit her before she can dodge it. And she's practically immortal with that armor. I need a blunt weapon.

I throw my knife, once again. She ducks as soon as I raise my arm. Once she's evaded the projectile, she comes after me. Mara swings at me with the ax. I raise my shield and block it with as much force as I can muster. The ax hits the piece of metal and bounces straight off. She yells as she drops the weapon. My leg arm is in pain after the block, and my shield is dented from the blow. But this is my chance.

I grab a rock from the ground and try to brain her with it. The armor won't be able to withstand that. I flashback to the bloodbath, and how I tried to kill Jasmine the exact same way. But this time it's different. This time I have no problem with taking Mara's life. She deserves it.

The rock connects with the side of her head. She crumples to the ground and I distinctly see blood on her armor. And a crack.

That crack gives me hope. She is not invincible.

But she's still got fight in her. She spins around on the ground with a roar and kicks my legs out from under me along with my crutch. The wood falls to the ground a second after I do. I don't even feel the pain from my leg.

She takes a knife that I aimed at her and holds it viciously. She stabs downwards to my vulnerable body. I roll out of the way and feel the knife penetrate the dirt right next to my jacket. I take my shield and hit her in the mouth with it. While she reels, I get to my feet.

I stand on one leg and balance by gripping a rock my my left arm. I search my belt for another knife. I have one more.

Before I can reach it, Mara has the ax in her hand again. She scrambles to her feet and stands right in front of me. Her eyes are giving me the death stare. "One knife left," she whispers. She hefts up her ax.

"I'll make it count." I say right back to her.

We both swing at the same time.

Then my world turns into chaos as an unseen force pushes me out of the way of the ax's path. I fall to the ground and almost spear myself my the knife. My leg hits the ground in a burst of pain. I fell right on my wound.

The tribute who attacked me now turns to Mara. He knocks the ax out of her hand. I can see who it is: Thorn.

"What are you doing?!" He yells at his ally. "Can't you see that's Annie?"  
He's back is towards me. I know that I can't win this fight, but I have to try. With my one knife left, I stand and stab right at Thorn's back.

He twists around and grabs my arm in his strong grip. The knife is knocked away. He twists my limb behind my back and I fall to the ground in pain. That's it. My only weapon is gone. I've lost.

"What are you doing?" Thorn asks me quietly.

As if he's surprised that I'm still trying to survive.

Mara is flustered from the fight and breathing heavily. "She attacked me first!" She protests. She glares at me and spins the ax in her hand. She points to the medical supplies with her weapon. "Look, she even took our med kit."

"Mara, calm down! You have to stop thinking with your emotions!" Thorn exclaims. "Annie-"

"Just make it quick." I interject quickly. I'm on the ground with no weapon and no supplies. No way to escape. All I can hope for is a quick death.

"Make what quick?" Thorn asks. He looks genuinely confused.

"Your kill. My death. Make it quick." I murmur. Four days. That's how long I lasted. I'll be the first Career to die in these Games. And I'm barely a Career anyway. I didn't make one single kill, not one. Nothing that makes me like the warrior I wanted so desperately to be when I was younger.

"We're not going to kill you, Annie." Thorn says.

"You sure about that?" Mara scoffs.

"Shut up Mara. Why were you even fighting? We're Careers, we're supposed to be allies!" Thorn says.

"Stop playing dumb. I know you tried to kill me at the bloodbath. Where do you think I got this injury?" I say. I don't bother standing up. I'm going to die no matter what I do.

"What are you talking about?" Mara says. I'm getting sick of her, even more than before. Why do I have to be humiliated before my death? I just want this to end.

But while confusion is in Mara's eyes, Thorn has a gleam. He knows something. "Was it an arrow?" he asks.

"What?" I say.

"The thing that hurt you, was it an arrow?"

"Yeah. Mara's arrow. She claimed the bow before the Games began. I only saw one bow at the Cornucopia. Who else could it have been?" I say.

Now Mara sees it too. Thorn and her exchange one long, meaningful glance. Then they look at me. "Why do you think I used an ax against you?" Mara says. This time, there's no hate in her voice. Somehow there's a hint of...understanding.  
I think back to when I was at their campsite. There was no bow. No arrows. That's a detail I didn't remember until now. And Mara or Thorn don't have the weapon with them now. So where is it?

"I don't know,. did you lose it? Why are you asking me?" I say. Now I want to stand. I shift my weight to my right foot to avoid pain. I get to my knees and struggle to rise. Thorn sticks out his hand. I'm startled by the simple kindness. I take it and stand up.

"Annie, I didn't get the bow at all." Mara says. She's being nicer now. Thorn's right, she does think with her emotions. But now that she's calmed down she is being amicable.

"Someone got there before she did." Thorn says. "He must have been the one to try and kill you."

My eyes widen. There's no deceit in their eyes. They are telling the truth. And...I believe them. I look from Mara to Thorn. Each has a look in their eye. The kind of look you have before telling someone that their loved one just died.

"Then, who was it? Who was it who tried to kill me?" I ask them, not really wanting to know the answer. Because I think I already know who it was. I think I know who wanted to kill me. Who likes archery. Who has a motive. And when Mara opens her mouth to say the name, that horrible, horrible name, I find myself saying it with her.

"Toren."

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**Thank you so much for reading my story so far! Unfortunately, I will not post another chapter for several weeks, maybe a month, because I am taking a long trip to China. Anyway, I would LOVE input. What do you think of the story so far? What do you think will happen next? Did you expect that cliffhanger? Thank you so much for those of you who have been leaving reviews (especially Pabulover123), because it's always great to get feedback. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and the whole story. Goodbye for a month! ~ **


	19. Chapter 18: New Perspective

**Sorry for the lack of chapters; it's been a busy summer! Anyway, here it is: a nice long one! It is the eighteenth chapter, which officially crosses the 50,000 word count! That's awesome! In other news, I am currently working on three fanfics right now: this one, Lavinia's story, and the Mythology of the Hunger Games (check 'em out of my profile, I think you'll like them). Whichever one gets the most reviews consistently will be the one I update the most...so if you love this story, review it to get chapters much faster! Anyway, hope you like this chapter! **

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_Chaos._

_That's the only way Thorn could describe it. Utter chaos. Tributes were running in every direction, scrambling for backpacks, weapons, food, parachutes, and anything else that could further their chances of survival. Thorn himself sprinted towards the cornucopia to get his hands on some swords. He has 18 enemies right now, and his job was to kill as many as possible._

_As Thorn reached the supplies in the mouth of the massive cornucopia, one of the first due to his athleticism, he spotted the swords instantly. The sun glinted off the hard metal. Thorn dashed over there, pushing Thistle-the boy from 11- out of his path. Once the weapon was in his hand, he started his kills._

_Thorn whipped his head around, looking for his first target. Samantha, a slim blonde girl from Nine, searched for food in a container only a few paces away. Thorn charged, careful to make no sound as he ran. Sam looked up, saw the Career coming, and ducked the initial attack. But the second sword swing caught her on the shoulder and she fell to the ground, bleeding profusely._

_Thorn grinned as he prepared himself for the killing blow. Samantha screamed below him as he brought his arm back and drove it into her stomach. Her scream stopped. The light faded from her eyes as one more tribute died._

_Thorn surveyed the killing field. Sasha and Mara were fighting tributes over to his right and Toren aimed his bow at someone else. Wait... Where is Toren aiming? Is that..._

_Toren released the string._

_"NO!" Thorn yelled as he watched the arrow fly out and hit Toren's target: Annie. The projectile impaled her moments before she was attacked from behind. Thorn's too far away to help; she's on her own._

_Thorn turned his attention to Toren, who raised his bow again; apparently oblivious to the fact that Thorn saw his betrayal. He turned to pivot and stared directly at Mara._

_"Mara, duck!" Thorn screamed, desperate to save his ally. Toren heard the call at the same time Mara did. Toren released the arrow at the same instant Mara dodged it. The weapon flew right over her head. Thorn felt elated his ally was still alive. Mara took the axes in her hands and ran forward to face Toren. Her face masks her rage at the deception of her ally._

_Sheen, with several spears gripped in his hands, heard the commotion and saw the traitor. Toren, who has his bow raised again with another arrow, started to back away from his former allies. All the other tributes got out of his way. As they ran, Thorn felt horrible that he couldn't kill them like Careers are supposed to. But he had to deal with Toren first._

_Sheen, Mara, and Thorn step forward, wary of the dangerous Career they were trying to kill. Without warning, Toren let go of the arrow and it flew towards Sheen. Thorn sprinted at Toren, trying to kill him before he escaped. But, in addition to his supplies and weapons, Toren had a parachute strapped on his back. He dove over the side of the rock platform in an elegant swan dive... just before Sheen through his spear._

_Mara, Sheen, and Thorn stepped up to the edge. Toren's parachute opened up below them, a giant blue one. It joined the multitude of parachutes that decorated the air below. Each one signified another tribute that escaped the bloodbath._

_The three turned around to the battlefield. Bodies were strewn everywhere. But not enough. All of the living tributes were gone. Annie was injured and most likely dead. Sasha was nowhere to be found. These three were all that's left of the original alliance._

"That's what happened. Toren attacked you and then Mara. He must have planned it from the beginning. Mara and I have been in your alliance the whole time." Thorn says to me.

I take in the news with a mixture of bafflement, horror, and confusion. Toren...tried to kill me? Thorn saved me?

There's always the possibility of Thorn and Mara's deceit. But looking into Thorn's eyes, I don't see lies. I see the truth. Plus, his version of events matches up with what I know. I think back to the day before the Games started, how Scylla urged Toren to not become too attached to me. I guess he took that advice.

I still can't believe my closest ally tried to kill me.

We are both still in the area where Mara and I fought just five minutes ago. Mara and Thorn sit beside me, respectful of my injury which has progressed to the point where I can no longer stand. The two of them, whom I have been avoiding out of fear my entire portion of the Games, appear to be friendly to me.

Now I'm not sure what to do. Are they my allies now? I tried to kill Mara, just minutes ago. Is that something that can be forgiven? Circumstances are different now; information has been shared.

I know that I won't last long at this point without friends.

Thorn stands up in order to grab the med-kit which lays on the ground a few yards away. That's what I stole in order to heal myself and provoked the whole fight between Mara and I. To my surprise, he opens it and rummages through it.

"What are you doing?" I ask as Thorn reveals a needle filled with a clear liquid.

He takes my arm gently as he answers, "It's just medicine. It'll help clear out the infection."

I know it's stupid, but as the needle breaks my skin, I can't help but yelp out loud. Figures. Considering all the pain that's already happened to me, I flinch from a puny needle. Thorn and Mara start laughing at my reaction.

"Want some morphine for that shot?" Mara asks, ""Oh wait, you'll need another shot for that! I guess little stings are painful now." I can't help but grin at it, stupid as that comment was.

Thorn helps me to my feet. Or foot. I still can't use my left one, no matter how fast acting the medicine might be. He puts my arm around his shoulder and supports me with his body. He motions for me to start walking. I limp on, much aided by Thorn.

I have a question to ask, the answer of which may be too obvious to even warrant a inquiry. But I need to ask. I open my mouth, "So uh...I guess we're allies now."

Thorn looks at me, "Haven't we always been?"

I smile. It feels good to be accepted again. I thought that they cast me off as a weakling after I spared Jasmine. But I guess they didn't see that. Our alliance would be a different story if my mercy was visible at the bloodbath.

Mara, a few paces behind us cleaning up the medical supplies, asks me how the rest of the Games have been so far.

"Well, after the bloodbath-" I begin.

"Wait! You never told us how you survived!" Thorn exclaims. "You had no parachute if I recall correctly."

I tell him the story of how I clung to Chris's dead body in midair when the parachute opened and then floated down to the earth.

Thorn looks dumbstruck. "So you actually used Chris's parachute to survive...while it was still on his body?!"

I blush slightly. "Yeah, I guess so." I take a moment to appreciate my survival. It actually was kind of amazing. I was too caught up with my leg injury and Jasmine's fight that I didn't internalize it at all.

Mara says, "We all thought you were dead. And then your name didn't show up so we had no idea how you made it out alive."

As Thorn helps me get back to their camp, I explain how I survived the last four days. I climbed the mountain for a day, and then went back down after the avalanches started resulting from the earthquake. I followed the river for a while, getting slower and slower because of my injury. Then I ran into Titus...

This part of the story is hard to tell. I tell them about discovering Joshua's body, but I stop myself from saying how he died. I don't want to relive that memory.

I continue with my escape from Titus. I play up my injury, to make it sound like my weakness caused my defeat rather than his superiority, his dominance. I tell of my traveling through the river, weakened and alone, and stumbling on to their campsite.

"And then I saw that medicine and knew I needed it. But you have to understand, I thought Mara attacked me. I didn't think you were my allies at all." I say, struggling to walk further.

Thorn props me up and says, "We're almost there."

Mara, who has been mostly quiet this whole time, says, "I would probably have done the same if I was you." We exchange a long glance. We've never really been friends, Mara and I. Actually, that's an understatement; we can barely be civil with one another.

I change the subject, "So, what about you? What happened after the bloodbath?"

Thorn starts, "Well, it was Mara, Sheen and I who were left. Sasha and you were gone, we still don't know what happened to her, and you know what happened to Toren. We stayed there that day, sorting through supplies."

"That's where I got this." Mara says, pointing to her body armor.

"Right. So the three of us chose weapons and such. We made a big pile of the food. We sorted everything in backpacks for travel. But we were essentially stuck. There were only two parachutes left over and three of us." I think back to how I tossed parachutes over the edge. That was a mistake. Instead of killing other tributes, it only hurt the Careers.

Thorn continues, "The next day, we tried to figure out how to get down. Obviously we couldn't stay up on top of the Tower; we could never be able to get any tributes that way. So-"

"Thorn figured it out." Mara cuts in quickly. "We found some rope in a backpack on the second day. He made a harness with the rope, some carabineers, and stuff. He used some super complicated District Four knot to tie it all together."

"It wasn't that hard." Thorn says modestly.

"Yes it was. At least for me or Sheen it would have been." Mara says teasingly. Thorn reluctantly smiles. Their friendly to-and-fro makes me wonder how I went four days without human company. I'm almost unused to conversing with people.

Thorn goes on, "Well, what it did was connect one person to another who had the parachute attached. It took me all day to finish."

He stops talking as we arrive at the campsite. The fire barely flickers in the fireplace next to the mountain of supplies. As Thorn eases me into a sitting position, I can feel the numbing effects of the medicine already . My leg should start to heal soon.

"Mara and I were connected, as you could probably guess." Thorn says. "All three of us jumped together, but we have no idea where Sheen is. He landed somewhere in the desert, and we landed in the mountains. We've been trying to find him ever since."

"What about the other tributes? You haven't found any yet?" I ask.

"Guess not. It's a really big arena. Too big." Mara admonishes. "We saw Holly and Thistle yesterday in the mountains, but they evaded us too well."

"Well," says Thorn, as he settles down beside me, "Tomorrow is a new day. We can go hunting then." I try to remain calm and keep my face blank. Now that I know that these are my allies, I know they couldn't have seen me save Jasmine. They can't know that I haven't killed anyone, or might be morally incapable of doing so.

My heart sinks. If they find out, if I am put into a situation where I have to kill someone, my alliance could be void. Or they may kill me as the weakest link. A Career who can't kill isn't a Career at all.

"Got any sponsor gifts yet?" Thorn asks me, breaking up my thoughts.

Oh yeah. Another reminder of my failure to kill.

"No, not yet." Thorn looks quizzical. He knows the odds, he knows that I had bounties of sponsors going into the games. He knows there's something I'm not telling him. I hastily lie, "I haven't really needed anything so far. I mean, except for medicine, and that's probably too expensive. I mean...I've been able to hunt and find water and everything." Crap, I hear my voice go higher and I speak quicker and quicker. I'm a terrible liar.

Thankfully, my last line threw him off my tracks. "Wait, you hunted?" Hunting is considered bizarre for Careers to actually do. We never need to, with our bloodbath spoils and sponsor gifts.

I briefly tell him about how I shot down the bird. He looks pretty impressed. "Really? You just hit a flying bird with a knife? Wow. Hear that Mara?"

"What?" Mara looks up. She has been rifling through their bags. "Oh, yeah, cool." She continues her examination of the supplies.

"Whatcha looking for?" Thorn asks.

"Food." Mara simply replies. Turning over some loaves of stale bread and dried fruit, she seems disappointed. "Ah screw it. Hey, Cashmere. Can you hear me? Hit me up with some steak and uh, some pizza. Make it pepperoni. And real fruit, not this dried raisin crap."

She turns to me. "Want anything?"

I shake my head no. I know it's common for players-almost exclusively Careers-to specifically ask for things, but only when no other options are available. But Mara sounds like she's ordering off of a menu. The Gamemakers are probably getting a big laugh out of this.

District One is notorious for sending spoiled brats to the arena that are unused to the arena life, but still...

Thorn looks annoyed. "Mara, just eat the bread. We need to save our food. You already ate all the beef jerky and the oranges and whatever else we brought down."

Mara crosses her arms. "Why?"

"Mara, just eat it. It won't be good for long. You'll regret it later if you don't." I surprise even myself by speaking up. Mara has made it clear from the beginning that she doesn't like me, and I have tried to get out of the way as much as possible.

Thorn gives her a meaningful glance, and she takes the food and sits away from us, pouting.

"Just ignore her," Thorn says. I know. I try to, but it's hard. An hour or so ago, I wanted to kill her so badly. Now, we have to get along if we are going to survive.

"How's the leg?" Thorn asks me. I tear away my gaze from Mara, who is chewing angrily on the chunk of bread, and look at Thorn.

"Pardon?"

"Your leg?" Thorn says, this time pointing to my near-fatal injury. I pull up my pants leg and am almost surprised to see it there. The pain has been subsiding the past few hours dramatically. I touch the flesh, and feel nothing underneath the numbed area.

"Wow." I mutter to myself. I motion to stand up, but Thorn stops.

"Whoa, not just yet. There may be no pain, but the wound is still dangerous. You could make it worse." Thorn says, pushing me back down gently.

I compromise by stretching out my leg by the fire. Night has fallen while we've talked, illuminating our faces with an orange glow from the flickering flames.

"You should go to bed soon," Thorn says, "You'll need your sleep. Tomorrow we need to get a tribute. Only one dead outside of the bloodbath so far; the Gamemakers are going to start sending in mutts. Rest now."

Trust. It's something that is so hard to get in these Games. I trusted Toren, and he tried to kill me. I don't trust Mara, but I trust Thorn. Or at least I think I do. But there's something that is stopping me from going to sleep with him right next to me. With a sword in his hand. And an irritated Mara a few paces away with a plethora of weapons in her hands.

I keep flashing back to Scylla's allies: most of whom died before they could wake up during her betrayal.

Thorn sees my hesitation and laughs it off. "You don't trust us yet. Hey, I'm tired too. We'll sleep together at the same time."

I nod, trying to convince myself that I'm safe here. But as Thorn squeezes his large frame into a sleeping bag he produced, I try to bring back that paranoia. Caution is essential in this game. I'm not safe here, never will be, and I need to remember that.

* * *

The stars are the only thing I see. The stillness of the arena lies beneath the vastness of the constellations above. They are shining over my home, over my mother, father, and sister. I doubt they are looking at the stars though; the cameras are most likely trained on our alliance right now. My mother promised me she would watch 24/7, just to see me kill and fight all the time. She was so confident I was going to win...

I lie awake on the slim sleeping pad Thorn provided for me. My thoughts are racing too much for sleep. At this point, the chances of them betraying me are very low: Thorn has been snoring for an hour or so and Mara is keeping watch a few paces away. She hasn't given any indication of wanting to kill me. She even took off her body armor.

We are both perfectly still in the nighttime. My insomnia has peacefully kept me awake for hours. The arena is quiet, devoid of the animals that most arenas contain. I remember some years when the tributes couldn't sleep at night for fear of being attacked in the gloom. Thankfully, this year my adversaries are not hunting in the night.

"Can't sleep?" I'm surprised by Mara's voice. She turns to face me, her eyes glowing from the light of the moon.

"No." I flatly reply.

"You know, you aren't in danger here." She looks directly at my unsheathed knife, which I grip tightly in my hand as I try to fall asleep. I'm not worried about stabbing myself; I've done this every single night in the Games.

"I just fell into the habit while I was on my own." I say, not wanting to state the real reason. Ever since my training days, knives have always been...safe for me. I feel comfortable with a knife in my hand. I spent my childhood learning how to throw them-I spent more time gripping knives then holding my mother's hand. They have somehow been there when no one else was.

Maybe I'm just being crazy.

Mara, after going quiet for a moment, says, "Well, you don't need it now. Nothing's going to attack us." Her self-assured comment sounds rather protective.

Silence passes between us. Rather than stare into the nighttime with only my thoughts, I try to strike up a real conversation. "So, what's District One like?"

"I can't tell you much. I've only ever been to Stellatus, the capital." Mara whispers.

"So, what's that like?" I wonder if the Gamemakers are blocking out our conversation. The Capitol doesn't typically like districts knowing about other districts.

"Well, it's massive. Nowhere near as big as the Capitol, but still huge. Everything is big and huge and shiny-new. They say it's the nicest place outside of the Capitol." she says matter of factly. There's a hint of dishonesty in there somehow. As if that is scripted, what people make her say.

"Did you like it there?" I venture.

I'm afraid that asking such a personal question on live TV is a bad idea, especially for someone so volatile. But she merely shrugs. 'I liked it as much as I could for someone without a family to come home to after training."

I remember what Thorn told me in the Training Center, about how Mara was adopted simply to become a tribute. Her parents promised that they would only love her if she became a victor.

I don't really know what to say.

Mara fills the silence with, "What about you? What's District Four like?"

"Well, I've lived at the Academy since I was eight. I don't really remember much before that. Obviously training was a big part of my life. But I didn't live in a city like you. District Four's Academy is near the ocean, with some massive cliffs. It was pretty peaceful. That's why the Capitol was such a culture shock to me." I say, staring off into the distance.

"Must have been nice." says Mara wistfully.

"Yeah, I guess it was."

Both of us know what the other is thinking: better than this hell hole we're in. Because through all of Mara's bravado and strength and daring, I can tell she's not happy. She's not happy killing, she's not happy in the arena, and if she wins, she won't really be happy in District 1. She won't be, and she probably won't ever be. But it's all she's known and it's all she ever will.

The silence between us escalates until the conversation is over. I turn on my side, drifting off into slumber. I will be able to sleep now.

Only as the dark reaches of my dreams take me into unconsciousness do I realize that Mara and I are far more alike than I thought.


	20. Chapter 19: Gamemaker Announcement

**Hello readers! Sorry that this chapter is so short; the next one will be longer, promise! Also, you should totally check out my other fanfic "Avox: the Untold Story of Lavinia Tagaria". Both stories are set at the same time, and they intertwine a little bit. You'll enjoy reading both together! Okay, enjoy this chapter and remember to review!**

* * *

"Wake up sleepyhead."

I mumble something incoherently and then roll over on my side, shielding my eyes from the sunlight. It's so nice to finally get some sleep. I feel completely at peace. Knowing that my new allies are here, that I am safe, I can finally relax. I don't need to be in constant fear of everything. I can close my eyes and just-

A searing cold sensation ignites across my body. My senses instantly alert, I sit up and grab my knife. Wiping the water out of my eyes and feeling adrenaline in my veins, I search for danger. I only find Mara and Thorn staring at me with an empty bucket in their hands and bemused expressions on their faces.

They burst out laughing at my expression of shock.

"It's not funny, guys!" I say, rubbing my arms to get some feeling back into them. My hair is soaked through and it dripping into my eyes. I try to squeeze out as much water as I can.

"You weren't getting up, so we-we" That simple statement was apparently too much for Thorn to say, as his laughter bubbles up before he can finish.

They're still cracking up. Their laughter is contagious; soon I can't stop a smile from spreading on my face.

"Okay, okay. Hahahahahahahaha." I say sarcastically. "You got me."

"You should have seen your face!" Thorn says in between bursts of giggling. "I wish we could have took a picture of it."

"Well, whoever gets out of this thing can look at it all they want." Mara says nonchalantly.

Thorn and I stare at each other for a long awkward pause. For a second there I almost forgot about the Hunger Games. I almost forgot that only one of us was getting out alive.

Thorn breaks the silence, "So, how's your leg, Annie?"

I jump forward. I had forgotten about it; the pain hasn't been bothering me at all. I pull back my soaking cargo pants and can only see a faint pink line where the injury was.

"That's...that's amazing!" I exclaim, glancing from my leg to Thorn. "I can't feel anything!"

"Told you it works quickly." he winks. I hastily stand up, eager to put my leg back in use. "Whoa, just be careful now. Don't want to reopen it."

I stand on two legs. I feel fine. I gingerly test the strength of it by leaning on my right side. A twinge of pain, but nothing more. Finally, I have full use of my limbs!

Things are looking up.

Thorn tosses me a blanket. "We're going to hunt now. You ready? You can stay back if you don't feel up to it."

I wipe down my arms from the water. "No, I'm good."

"Sure?"

"Yeah."

"In that case," he hefts a large bag and gives it to me. "Here's this. We're going to camp somewhere else tonight, so we have to take everything with us."

I take the backpack, which I realize is the exact same one I got from the bloodbath. It's filled to the brim with survival equipment. I look around and realize that all of our equipment is packed up and ready to go. They must have done it while I slept.

"You should have woken me!" I said, "I could have helped you."

"We tried." Mara says. "You can sleep through anything."

I blush. I was infamous back in District Four for just that. I bet my family is having a hoot about that back home.

Mara stamps out the campfire and Thorn shoulders the final bag. "Ready to go?" Mara asks us. We both nod.

We begin our long hike. Thorn's idea is to head towards the Tower, in hopes that other tributes may be there. It also is the central point in the arena, and therefore makes it easy to access the rest of the land. My stomach growls as we go, a constant reminder of our dwindling food supply.

After an hour or two of traveling, Mara hands out a few bananas and a water bottle each. We drain the liquid and scarf down the food. "How much do we have left?" I ask.

Mara checks her bag, the one with food and water. "Uh...not much." she says. "A little fruit, half a crust of bread, and some trail mix."

That's enough for about a day for three people. Soon we'll have to be digging into our sponsors' money for food.

"How much did you take down from the Tower when you jumped?" I ask.

"Not enough, I guess. We only had so much space."

"I guess so." I think that Mara may have eaten more than she should, as I witnessed last night. Thorn has a head level enough to ration food...Mara, not so much.

In any case, the three of us pack up and start hiking again. It's difficult for me, considering that I have only recently regained the full use of my legs. And I have a heavy backpack on. But the terrain begins to get less and less rocky. It levels out into a flatland, largely devoid of the massive boulders I've come to expect from the arena. Instead, sparse brush and even a few trees adorn the ground. It makes it easier to spot other tributes, which is probably Thorn's plan. It also makes it easier to be spotted.

We're about halfway there when we are interrupted.

A staticy sound echoes around us. I whip out my knife before I realize what it is: feedback. The Gamemakers have an announcement.

"Attention tributes, attention. This time tomorrow, the Gamemakers will host a feast for the tributes. Everyone is welcome. For those of you struggling in these Games, this could help lead you to victory. Go to the desert under the spotlight. You have twenty-four hours. May the odds be ever in your favor..."

The voice recedes away. There's quiet for a few moments and, then I hear Thorn call out, "There!"

I look to where he's pointing. A massive spotlight, the one mentioned by Claudius Templesmith, is pointing straight down from the sky. The Tower blocks it a little bit, but I can still see most of it. Some invisible hovercraft is beaming it into the arena, presumably where the feast is.

It's far. Very far.

As I watch, the light begins to fade away. I look right, and see Thorn squinting at it. Memorizing the location of the feast, no doubt. Within minutes, the light is completely gone, leaving the tributes to navigate to the area on their own.

Once it's gone, Thorn says, "It's in the desert. On the whole other side of the arena." It's already been decided, I guess. We, as Careers, will have to go to the feast. Not to get the food (although that will be helpful due to our limited supplies), but to kill the other tributes. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

"We need to go now." Mara says, "Or we might not make it in time. Can we get there if we start now?"

Thorn purses his lips. "I'm not sure. We'll have to pass the Tower and go to the other side. It could take a while."

"But what about water?" I ask. They look at me, confused. "It's in the middle of the desert, and we don't have much left."

Mara opens her bag and brings out one bottle of water, halfway full. "This is enough for a day."

"Yeah, but we'll be in the desert. There's not going to be water anywhere."

"She's right, Mara." Thorn cuts in. "We won't have enough water. We should double back towards the river and then head towards the desert."

"We can just ask Cashmere for some water then." Mara says indignantly

"No way! Water is the second most expensive sponsor gift." Thorn says, "Right after weapons. If we ask for water then we'll be left with little money for other things we might need."

"What? You memorize the list or something?" Mara scoffs.

"Maybe I did."

She's not surprised. "We still need to head to the desert now." The feast might supply water, and then our problems will be solved." She states this as if there can be no other way.

"Mara, we have to think about our safety first." I say, "If we run out of water-"

"Yes, but we might miss the deadline for the feast. If we miss the feast, no one's going to die and we'll be stuck in this crap-hole for another few weeks!" Mara raises her voice.

Thorn and I both know it's too risky. Water is precious in this arena with only one river. Especially if we head into the desert.

Mara sees our hesitation. "Thorn, could we make it back to the river and still make it to the feast in time?"

He sighs, "I think so."

"Do you know for sure?"

"...No."

Mara takes this as an affirmative. We begin our hike again, this time changing course to the desert.

It's too risky. Without water, we will become less and less functional. Our bodies and brains won't work as well. This was drilled into my head back at the Academy. Death will occur after just a few days.

But I guess Mara was too stubborn to be convinced otherwise.


	21. Chapter 20: Desert Sands

My next step lands me in a pile of sand.

The tiny granules of rock stretch on in every direction. Well, that's not totally true; they stretch on in every direction in front of me. Mara, Thorn, and I were just about to take the first few steps into the desert.

The journey here has been difficult. I'm used to the terrain by now, but my leg is still healing and I have a heavy backpack on me. My body aches with a deep pain and sweat has been pouring out of my brow nonstop. The slowly setting sun is still bearing down on us very hard. But now we are at the brink of the desert, where our journey will only increase in difficulty. .

I saw it from the parachute, when I first landed in the arena: a giant yellow wasteland that takes up a large chunk of the arena. But that wasn't like staring at it head-on. I couldn't quite comprehend its magnitude from the air. Now that I'm down here, it looks endless. I know it is about a third of the terrain here, but from my vantage point, I don't see anything except more and more sand. I cannot see an end to the vast dessert. It really shows just how huge this arena really is.

Thorn or Mara haven't taken a step yet. We all feel hesitant to do so. The desert is easy to get lost in, and our daylight is fading quickly. We need to find the place of the feast before dark.

"What are we waiting for?" Mara demands, hustling forward into the sand. "We need to get moving."

"Thorn, do you know where we're supposed to go?" I ask. I don't want to leave until I know for certain we're I'm going.

"I...I think so." he says, staring up at the sky. I look up too and see that his view is focused on the sun. He must use it to track our position.

"Are you sure?" Mara asks.

"As sure as I can be." he says.

"What's that mean?"

"It means..." he pauses, "that I only saw the spotlight for a brief moment. It's hard to accurately gauge distance from that far away."

Well, if anyone can find the feast, it will be Thorn. After a brief pause, Thorn and I follow Mara into the wasteland.

Within seconds of starting our desert trek, I instantly notice a difference. The ground is slippery beneath my feet. I've walked on sand before, just like any District Four native. But this is different. Instead of the hard packed wet sand from beaches, this is dry and loose. Every footstep sends up particles of dust in the air. The sand finds its way into my eyes, my hair, and my clothes. The journey is rough.

Hard too, is the time it takes to travel. With our feet sliding in the dunes and nothing steady to walk on, we don't make much progress. The sun bears down even harder it seems. Soon the sweat runs down my face as it collects beads of sand on its progression.

My mood worsens the more I'm out here. My throat itches for water, but my itch can't be satisfied. We're all out of the sacred liquid. No more water. Every second under the unfiltered sun makes more sweat pouring down my face - more water that my body is losing. I'm beginning to feel the affects.

It feels like hours after we started that I can no longer see the rock terrain we left behind. Now all I can see is sand, sand, and more sand. The sun's descent seems to be mocking me even, turning the sky into orange, the color of the desert.

"Night's coming." I remark.

Thorn merely grunts in response.

"Are we far?" Mara asks.

Thorn doesn't respond.

"Are we far?" I echo.

"Look," Thorn says, "I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?!" I yell.

He sighs, "I guess...I don't know, I just...it's a big desert okay!"

"I thought you were the genius here!" I angrily slam my bag down on the ground.

"I don't see you helping very much here!" Mara spits out.

I rub my tongue over my dry, dry lips and they crackle from the moisture. Mara is defending Thorn. I know it's not his fault, not really, but I am too tired and thirsty to care. They are both pissing me off right now.

"So we're lost." I say.

Thorn begins, "Well, we're not lost-"

"We're lost." I say, cutting him off with a glare. "We have no idea which way to go. We're stuck in the middle of a freaking dessert with a feast tomorrow. We've already run out of water."

"Oh, we're back to that again?" Mara scoffs.

"Yeah, we're back to that again!" I yell. "If we had gone to the river, we would actually have some water to drink right now!"

"Oh, that's my fault?" Mara says, her voice rising.

"Of course it's your fault!"

"Maybe if your leg hadn't been slowing us down, we would have had time to actually go to the river!"

I don't have anything to say to this. How dare she blame me? As if I wanted to be injured for days? I'm slow because Toren betrayed me.

Thorn fills the silence, "Annie, this is no one's fault. We just have to keep moving. We might be able to find the place in time, who knows? Look, I know you don't like the desert-"

"What's that mean?" I bark.

Mara interrupts Thorn, "It means that District Four is worthless in the desert. Or mountains. Or plains. Or forest. Or anything else that isn't a lake."

My blood begins to boil. "Look, princess. I survived on my own out here for three days. How 'bout you? Huh? Can you make it even one day without sponsor gifts or your boyfriend to help you out? "

Mara takes out her ax. "You take that back."

I grimace. "Make me."

Mara steps forward towards me, only to be stopped by Thorn. "Stop it, now. Both of you. Fighting amongst-"

Mara shoves him aside. "You're going to regret this, Annie."

I grin. "Bring it on-" A movement catches my attention out of the corner of my eye that makes me stop talking mid-sentence. A yellow line, the exact color of the sand. Instinctively, I sense danger.

Mara swings the butt of her ax, taking my attention away. I duck, lithely moving my body out of harm's way. Mara is preparing another strike, but I'm not focused on that. My hand is already reaching for a throwing knife at my belt.

In a blink of an eye the moving object in the sand strikes, and I see what it is: a mutt. The knife is already flying out of my hand, my reflexes faster than the snake. The beige head of the serpent lashes forward to Thorn, the closest person to the thing.

"Thorn!" The snake tries to bite my ally, but the knife deters it for a moment. In a second, the snake's path is diverted and its bared fangs miss its target. Thorn, realizing the danger, slices with his sword just as the mutt strikes again. Steel meets skin. The snake's head flies through the air after the sword separated it from its body.

Mara, who is standing over me prepared to hit me, again, stops when she sees the snake's head on the ground. A trickle of blood drips from the flesh. The rest of the yellow body is draped over Thorn, showing just how close this was. Thorn is on the ground, panting from adrenaline. It all happened in the blink of an eye.

"What was that?" I ask.

"Some sort of snake." Mara says.

"No." Thorn replies flatly, "It's a mutt. Look at those fangs; they're nearly three times as big as a normal snake's. And it's longer than it should be."

The eyes of the snake are looking at me. A drop of venom lies on the fangs, which are bared open fiercely. It's much scarier than the black and white sea snakes I've come across in District Four. I have no doubt that it's deadly enough to kill every tribute in this arena if the Gamemakers willed it.

Thorn takes the lifeless body off of him and throws it across a dune. The snake flies through the air and lands with a burst of sand.

"Are there more?" I say as I kick away the head, not wanting to look at it any more.

"Probably." Mara says. "When's the last time a mutt has been on its on in the Games?"

"The Fifty-Seventh." Thorn murmurs under his breath.

"We need to build a fire." I say. "Fire scares off snakes, right?"

"We can't make a fire- we're in the middle of a desert." Mara says.

"We can try to find some cactuses-cacti." I correct myself, "We passed some on the way here." Never mind the fact that cacti are much too wet to burn well.

I wait for someone to announce something else. But neither of them does. It's too dark to travel now. We're never going to make it to the feast, not without a miracle.

Mara takes out some food for us. Our petty feud in the past now, forgotten in the wake of the mutt attack. It's strange what the desert does to your head. Mara's mind went a little crazy from lack of water. If I'm being honest with myself, mine did so more than hers.

A slight pinging sound catches my attention. I look up to see a white parachute, a stark contrast to the black sky, falling slowly down.

"It's a sponsor gift!" Thorn exclaims.

"Way to go, Captain Obvious." Mara mocks. Thorn's too distracted by the parachute to care. When it is within reach, he grabs the package and opens it.

Please be water. Please be water.

Thorn opens the box. My heart sinks, it's not water. Thorn was right, it's too expensive.

He takes out a small vial of clear liquid. But he immediately tosses it aside once he sees the second object.

"A compass!" he says ecstatically.

He takes out the slim metallic device and instantly starts to examine it.

"Can it take us to the feast?" I ask.

"Yeah, I think so." Thorn grins widely.

He keeps fiddling with the compass. I take the first object from the box, a vial of liquid. Uncapping the top to reveal a white wick, I read the words on the side.

"It says..." I say, "It says it can burn slowly with a hot flame. " That short sentence is followed by the name of the chemical: an extremely long word that looks impossible to pronounce.

"Perfect." Mara says.

"It'll ward off the snakes for tonight." I agree.

It's actually not a bad gift, even though water isn't among the items. We have protection from mutts and a way to find the feast, which will hopefully have what we need. It's enough to last another day in this hellhole of a desert. After that we can be done with the hot sands.

I take out a match and light the wick. After a small start, the yellow flame grows bigger and bigger until a massive orange fire is flickering in my hand. It seems much too big for the small wick, but I guess we have good sponsors to afford such a good gift. This will come in handy.

Mara finds one last gift, a small note in the box. She reads it and smirks. I ask for the paper and she hands it to me.

_Get along until the feast you three! Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor._

_-Brutus, Scylla, Cashmere_

I wince guiltily at the message. Sometimes I forgot that the whole world can see what I'm doing.

I pass the message on to Thorn, who laughs as he reads it. He has nothing to worry about; he was the one stopping us from fighting. He's the only Career here who can actually keep a level head.

I place down the fire on the ground, the flames giving us plenty of light. Thorn has put the compass around his neck like a medallion and the firelight reflects on the metal as he starts setting up camp.

My backpack is the one with survival equipment in it, so I empty it for the group. We have matches, sleeping bags, camouflage, rope, medical supplies, and several other things. What will we need for tonight?

"How cold does it get in the desert at night?" I ask.

"How would I know?" Mara asks.

I stick out my tongue at her and then ask Thorn the same question.

"It can get pretty cold." he answers.

"So we'll need the sleeping bags?" I ask.

"For sure."

I take a black bag and unwrap it. It's pretty comfortable, especially after a long day of travel. It feels great to just lie down and to stretch my healing leg.

"Where's the other bag?" I hear Thorn ask.

"What?" I turn around to see him holding a brown sleeping bag.

"Where's the third one?" he repeats.

"Doesn't Mara have it?" I ask

"No." I look to see Mara standing next to the fire without the bag.

"Did we leave it behind?" Thorn asks.

"I guess we must have." I say. I didn't pack the bags, so I don't remember.

"We could share." Mara ventures to Thorn. He looks a little concerned so she continues, "It's big enough for both of us."

I giggle when I think I see Thorn's face redden.

"Oh come on!" Mara teases. "I don't bite."

"I'll...I'll take first watch." Thorn says. Now I know he's blushing.

He sits down and looks at the horizon, the matter settled. Mara climbs into the sleeping bag and turns away from him. She looks a little hurt by his refusal.

No matter. I resign to getting a good night's rest. I'll need it for tomorrow.

* * *

For the first time since the Games began, I'm not the last one to wake.

I open my eyes and instantly regret it. Particles of sand are scattered on my face and hair. I sit up and brush it off. Soon my hands are coated with the stuff, leaving everything I touch covered with sand. There's no chance of getting it out of my hair. Oh well, appearances don't matter much in the arena. .

The fire is still burning, only a third of the chemical gone. I blow out the flame to conserve it more. It's morning, so we should hopefully be able to see snake mutts if they come after us.

We need to get moving. Why isn't Thorn up by now? He's usually the first to rise.

I see my answer when I look at Mara's bag. They're both inside, snuggled up together. Inside the depths of sleep, the two of them don't look like highly trained killers anymore. Together they look almost...cute. Shame I have to wake them.

"Get up." I say to them. I briefly consider dumping sand on them, just like they did to me yesterday, but that would be too cruel. They would never get it out of the bag.

I kick the bag gently. Thorn awakes with a start. He blearily opens his eyes and sees me. "What time is it?" he murmurs.

"Oh, I'll just check my watch, the one I've had this whole time." I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He looks up at the sky and sees the sun just barely above the horizon. "Why didn't you wake me up before?" he says urgently as he unzips the bag and stands up.

"I just woke up, obviously. You're the one who's supposed to wake everyone else." I say.

"Wha-" Mara whispers, still half asleep.

"Get up. We need to leave." Thorn shakes her awake.

"Did we miss the feast?" Mara asks.

"No, but we're going to if we don't get moving." I say.

Still tired, the three of us quickly pack our bags. I roll up the sleeping bags while Thorn doles out a small portion of food for breakfast. I scarf down the bread quickly. My stomach isn't full though, not even close. We're running low on food - water is completely gone. We need this feast, not just for the kills but for the spoils.

The three of us are packed and ready to go quickly. Thorn checks his compass to find our route. Hopefully this journey will be shorter.

Just as we're about to leave our encampment, I see the snake head from last night. The venom is still there, which gives me an idea. "Can we use it?"

"Use what?" Mara says.

"The snake head. It still has the venom in it; we can use the poison to our advantage." I remark, peering closely at the specimen. The head is just as creepy as it was yesterday, and I almost don't want to touch it.

"I don't want it." Thorn says. "I don't think it'll come in handy."

"Same." Mara says.

Nevertheless, I think it's better taken along. I take off my backpack and grab the head. The feel of the scaly skin under my fingers is disgusting and reminds me of fish scales from back home, and not in a good way. I quickly toss it in my bag and zip it back up.

"Done?" Mara asks, having watched me take the mutt.

"Yeah," I reply. "Ready to go?"

Thorn nods and points forward whilst looking at his compass. We start the hike.

It's harder than yesterday. My throat is more parched and my lips crackle in the hot sun, devoid of all moisture. The lack of water is taking its toll. I have less food for energy and less water. Every drop I'm sweating out means less and less of the precious liquid. I need water at the feast, or I might not make it out of the desert.

Worse still is my anxiety for the feast. I have no idea what's going to happen. Feasts always result in deaths, and while I will likely not be one of them, I very well could be. My reflexes are dulled from lack of food and my limbs feel sluggish. Although I have two allies, probably the two strongest contenders, to protect me, I still don't feel safe.

'What if's start to pile up in my head. What if someone attacks me from behind? What if there's no water? What if we can't find the feast? What if I freeze like I did with Jasmine and my alliance sees my weakness? What if we get lost in the desert? What if Toren is there, waiting to finish what he started?

The questions put me in a negative state of mind. I try to drown out my fears by concentrating on putting one foot in front of another.

It's only after an hour or two that we start to see something.

Thorn's the first one to point it out. "Look out there." He points directly ahead.

"What is it?" I ask. The sun makes waves of heat rising from the sand, so it's hard to see long distances clearly. It's only after I go by another dune do I see it.

What looks like brown speckles are right ahead of me. It's only when I get closer and closer do they become more clear. They become less and less fuzzy as we slowly walk towards them. I begin to make out the shapes.

It's clear to the three of us that it is the place of the feast.

After another half hour of travel, we arrive at the place. I don't really know how to describe it. It's like a...ruin. Like a city that was destroyed. Except instead of buildings it has archways and columns made out of carved boulders.

It's probably the size of a small town, a very small town. It's circular, with massive blocks of stones surrounding it. The stones are cracked and weathered, and look very, very old. They were probably black originally, but the sun has weathered them into a dull grey color. They are arranged strangely, not like anything I've ever seen. They are built in arcs and archways, but crudely made. Most are no more complicated than a horizontal slab heaved on two verticals ones.

"What is this place?" Mara wonders as she approaches one of the stones. She places her hand on it, mystified.

"I've no idea." Thorn murmurs.

The archways and stone slabs extend to both my left and right, forming a circular perimeter. I look inwards and see the carved boulders everywhere I look. Very little space is left between the stones, forming paths and trails through the ruins that connect and double-back and intersect in seemingly random ways. They are obviously placed for a reason, but not particularly well; the patterns are irregular and sometimes out of place. It will make for good nooks and crannies for hiding.

It's a maze made out of ruined stone blocks in the middle of the desert.

"We don't have much time." Thorn says. "The feast is going to start soon."

He walks forward into the strange ruins. He ducks under some slabs and moves around another one. When he sees our hesitation he goads us on, "Hurry!"

We begin to run through the maze of ruins, knowing the feast is at the center. I lose my way around in the massive columns and corridors and arches. It's too confusing. Within minutes I have no idea where I am. I don't know which direction points to the center and which is the way out. I'm lucky to have Thorn guiding me.

Thorn stops suddenly as we see the center. There's an empty room, well, not much of a room. There's no roof, but there are a lot of stone slabs around it, almost like walls. The ground is covered with sand, just like everything else. Inside the courtyard (yes, courtyard, that's the word), there's a simple table.

This is the place; I can feel it.

The three of us crouch down. No one can see us, that would be disastrous. If tributes see the Careers coming, they won't even bother trying to get the food and we'll lose the opportunity to make any kills.

"It'll start any moment." Thorn whispers.

I take out my knife in preparation. Thorn stares at the table, which is fifty yards away in broad view. Anyone who makes a dash for it will certainly be spotted by every single person around us. And there are so many places to hide, so any number of tributes could be nearby, waiting for a chance to steal food and water.

"We need to split up." Thorn mutters.

"What?!" I say.

"SH!" Thorn admonishes. "Be quiet. Don't let anyone hear you."

I nod so he continues, "We won't be able to cover every tribute if we stay together."

"We can't split up; it's too risky!" I warn.

"It's best this way." he says. I don't like this, not at all. My chances are significantly lowered if I am separated from my allies. This is a bad move.

"I'll stay here." Thorn says, "Mara, you go all the way around to the other side. Annie, you go halfway around. When the first tribute goes in for the feast, I'll attack them. Annie, you cover me with your knives. Mara, you kill the survivors; just go after anyone who runs away. Afterwards, we'll meet up in the middle."

"Sounds good." Mara says as she stands to leave.

"No, this is a bad idea." I say.

"Trust me, everything will be fine." Thorn says.

I hesitate but Thorn urges me on, "Go. Now! We don't have much time."

Mara grabs my hand. "Hurry."

We both stand and start to quietly run away, leaving Thorn behind. I see him give us a wave as I lose him among the pillars.

We turn this way and that way, duck under arches and around stone. The table in the center is always within sight, which reassures me slightly. When we are about ninety degrees away from Thorn's position, Mara stops.

"This is where you stay." she says.

"What do I do?" I ask, trying to hide the fear in my voice. I'm losing control of the situation. I'm lost in a strange maze without my allies. I feel like everything is beyond my control.

She steps forward to answer. "Just protect Thorn. That's it. Your knives are accurate enough to hit any tribute from this far."

She turns to leave but stops, "Annie...just, protect him, okay? Don't let anything bad happen to him."

"Of course, he's our ally." I say.

"Yeah, my ally." Mara says with a hint of melancholy. "Keep him safe...for me."

She runs away, leaving me with confusion about their relationship. Does she...like him?

My thoughts are interrupted by a loud grinding sound. Parcels and boxes emerge from the ground around the table in the courtyard. Food, water, medicine, weapons. Everything and anything I could ever need. It's right there for anyone to take.

The feast has begun.

I wait, knife in my hand, for the first tribute to emerge. I crouch behind a stone slab as I anticipate the bloodbath that's sure to follow. My heart is racing. I feel out of place here, with no control over anything. Anything can happen.

But I wait for the first tribute to arrive so I can start the feast. This anxiety is killing me. When the first one appears, I will need to be ready for a fight. This is life or death.

Unknown to me, the first tribute is already right behind me.

"Hello, Annie."

I spin around, knowing who that voice is. I know who is behind me, who is right there, who stealthily stalked my every move. I turn around and see the tribute standing with a bow in hand and an arrow pointed right at my head.

Toren.

* * *

**Ready for the feast chapter? Hope so! There's going to be a lot of action going on as well as a major character death. What do you think is going to happen? Put your thoughts in a review! **


	22. Chapter 21: Feast

Without thinking, without processing it, I raise my hand and throw my dagger with all the strength I can muster. I aim to kill. Toren is a threat to my survival and I intend to eliminate him.

He dodges the weapon and the knife sails over his head. "Annie, stop!" he says.

The next knife is already in my hand before I hear what he says. I don't hesitate to throw again, this time aiming lower.

Toren jumps out of the way as he shoots an arrow at me. The projectile comes directly at my chest; just like the one he tried to kill me with at the bloodbath. But this time I have a shield.

I protect my body by raising my shield in defense. I hear a thud as the arrow strikes the metal. Toren is already sprinting at me, another arrow loaded in his bow. I grab a knife from my belt, but it's too late. He's already at me.

Toren strikes down my shield and grabs my wrist in an iron grip. I try to stab downwards, right at his face. He needs to die. I struggle with every ounce of strength I have, but I can't beat him. He's too strong.

I'm forced to let go of the knife. I close my eyes as I wait for the killing blow. But instead of feeling the cold steel against my throat, I only sense him grabbing my waist and trying to unbutton my pants.

No. This can't be happening. Toren's going to rape me.

But instead of loosening my pants, he unlocks my belt. My knives fall to the ground with a thud. He wasn't trying to undress me; he was trying to disarm me.

I stand right in front of him, weaponless.

"Annie, you have to listen to me. I didn't try to kill you at the reaping." Toren says.

He's lying. That's the first thing that comes to mind: deceit.

I answer, "You shot an arrow at me. There was only one bow in the whole - look, you're holding it now!"

"No I swear! I was trying to kill Chris!" he protests.

I remember Chris; he was the boy who tackled me after Toren shot me. I say tartly, "And what? You just missed?"

"Yes!"

"I thought you didn't miss." I say. Toren looks away guiltily. For a second, a brief, brief second, I believe him.

But Toren is a manipulator. He lied to Mara about the bows and then backstabbed her later when he stole them from her. He tried to kill me, and then Mara, Thorn, and Sheen when his plan went awry. Toren fooled me into liking him when we were in the Capitol. And he's doing it now, trying to make me trust him.

"Why haven't you killed me?" I ask.

"Because we're allies, Annie. We still are." he pleads. He seems scared. I've never seen him scared before.

"Bullshit." I say. "Bullshit. We stopped being allies the instant you shot an arrow at me in the bloodbath!"

"Annie, you have to believe me, I-"

His voice is cut off by the sound of feet hitting sand in a frenzied pace. Another tribute, it has to be. I whip my head around to see Thistle, the boy from District 11, sprinting towards the feast as fast as he can. The courtyard is long and wide and even though he's a fast runner, he's not even close yet.

Seeing this tribute reminds me that the feast is about to begin.

I look back at Toren. He says to me, "I betrayed the Careers, but not you, Annie. I wanted Mara dead. I stole her weapons and almost killed her."

"No, you tried to kill me and failed. Thorn defended Mara and you fled the bloodbath." I retort.

"Annie, please. Mara is dangerous. She's angry and violent; she was going to get us all killed." Toren says.

If what he's saying is true, then he never betrayed me. He only betrayed Mara. But I can't believe him.

I try to get inside his head. What's his end goal? What's his plan? He's cornered me, but he doesn't want me dead. He must still want me as his ally. He must be truly desperate. What if I run, what if I try to kill him? I don't know what he will do.

He _would_ betray Mara. That's exactly the sort of thing he would do. She's unpredictable, and Toren doesn't like unpredictability. It makes it harder for him to control people. Back in training, when Mara kicked us out of the alliance, he must have realized that he wouldn't be able to manipulate her. And when's the perfect time to betray someone? During the bloodbath, when it's so chaotic that no one will even notice. He could write off her death as another tribute's doing.

I don't know what to think anymore.

"Why should I believe you?" I ask.

"Because I'm your friend, Annie." he says. "Because we were allies first. Before Mara and Sheen and Thorn and everyone."

"Give me my weapons." I demand.

He hands me my knives and my belt, much to my surprise. He must be confident that I'm on his side now.

I feel much more secure now that I can defend myself.

"Why did you come see me now?" I ask.

"Because you've been with Mara this whole time. She will kill me on sight." he says. It's true. Mara would kill first and ask questions later.

I ask, "Why don't-"

Before I can finish, I am cut off by a piercing screaming sound. I whip my head around to see the feast. Thistle is running away, parcels in his hands. Holly is there too, with a large ax in her hand. Another tribute is pursuing Thistle, a sword in hand. As he turns his head I see that it is Thorn.

As I watch, Holly sprints up behind my ally and intercepts him. Before I can do anything, before I even realize it is happening, her ax flying towards Thorn. She swings down with a massive stroke and the weapon lodges in his head. It splits open like a watermelon. Blood runs down his forehead. Thorn slumps to the ground without a sound.

As I look upon the blood seeping out of my dead ally, his cannon booms loudly to signal his death.

It was that quick. One second Thorn was alive and the next he was dead. Just like that. My friend and ally is gone…forever. As I think about the horror of the situation, a tear silently rolls down my cheek.

Thorn is dead because I didn't protect him.

"So this was your plan all along?" I ask, not turning around so Toren can't see my tears. "Distract me so that Thorn would die." I'm so stupid. I should have killed Toren the instant I saw him.

"Annie, this is a game!" he says. "Everyone must die; everyone except one. If you want to win, you need to understand that."

"So you can just kill your allies?!" I ask.

"Mara is dangerous." Toren says, "Letting Thorn die weakens her."

I turn to look at the feast. As I watch, Holly flees the scene, collecting food and water as she runs. She jumps over Thorn's body as she makes her escape. Mara emerges from behind a column. Holly sees the danger and picks up her pace, Mara right behind. I hear her grunt and yell as she tries to catch her prey. She's red in the face, obviously upset over Thorn's death. I should help her, but I am too shocked by Thorn's death.

"I should kill you for this." I say to Toren.

"But you won't." he says. "You won't because you still want to be my ally. Annie-" he takes my hand in his.

No. I can't trust him. I can't. Because of him I spent days limping around and I almost died. Because of him my ally and closest friend is dead.

I jerk my hand back. I need to be strong. I wipe the tears off of my face and take a deep breath. The knife is already in my hand. I've already made my decision. Muscle memory helps me as I prepare to make the killing blow. I throw my dagger.

Toren ducks out of the way, just as before. He jumps behind a stone slab that lays collapsed and broken on the ground. He disappears from view.

I sprint after him, my muscles pumping to catch up. I leap over the stone and into the corridor that is behind it. Toren is nowhere to be seen.

I look left and right, my blood pumping fiercely. A maze of twisting paths stares back at me. Where is he?

I pick a direction at random, hoping to find him. I sprint towards it, listening for any sound of him, looking for him out of the corners of my eye. Nothing.

Bounding around an archway, I see Toren. He's sprinting towards the feast supplies, dodging a few other tributes. It's a free-for-all. There has to be at least six tributes there, all fighting for food.

I make my way to the courtyard, trying to get there before Toren can escape. Every wrong turn I make, every hesitation means extra time for him to get away. But this maze is too confusing. My mind seems to be on hyper drive, trying to memorize every nook and cranny but it's too complicated. I'm not going to catch him.

Then, by luck and luck alone, I spot a tribute going to the courtyard. I heft my shield and take out another knife as I sprint into the fray.

Toren's at the center. He picks up a water bottle and looks left and right, spotting danger. He has to be fifty yards away at this point. I need to get there now.

Breathing hard, blood pumping fiercely, adrenaline making me fast, I go to the center of the feast, where most of the fighting is. Tributes are everywhere. Most have some supplies and are trying to escape while they still can. While I run, I see a tribute on the ground, already bleeding out. More will come, I know it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mara standing at the edge of the courtyard, two axes hefted on her shoulders. "Mara!" I scream at my ally. "Get Toren!" He's nearly at the edge, only a few yards away from her. I sprint as fast as I possibly can but I know I can't catch up to him.

Mara draws back her arm and throws the ax. At me.

I hit the ground, years of training making my reflexes quick. The ax sails over my head and I hear a scream as it hits another tribute.

Mara just tried to kill me.

"You said you would protect him!" she screams. She's hysterical. In her eyes I see a craziness that cannot be contained by reason.

Toren was right. That's the only thing I can think. Toren was right, Mara is too dangerous.

It's too late now. Toren is long gone. I'm on the ground, waiting to be killed by Mara, my former ally.

I get to my feet, my sensory input going wild. Flashes of light from the desert sun reflect off of the metal weapons that are trying to kill everyone around them. I hear another cannon and know another tribute is dead. I narrowly avoid a spear to my side. Escape is the only way I will live.

I run towards the maze. The center of the feast, where all of the supplies are, is too far away. Too risky. Mara is nearby. No, my only hope is to get to the edge. I push a small girl out my way as I run. In a cruel twist of fate I almost trip over Thorn's deformed body as I make my savage rush for survival.

I glance back. Mara is distracted by Titus, the cannibal from Six. Hopefully both of them will die in that fight. Most tributes are gone now, all of the supplies either stolen or destroyed in the feast. Another cannon fires as I enter the maze.

I turn this way and that, not caring where in the maze I go. My legs are tiring, but I can't stop. I have no idea where I am headed, I just keep moving. To stand still is to die. Any number of tributes could be around me, waiting to kill me from behind.

Suddenly, I see the exit. Instead of another archway I see, I find the desert. I'm standing at the edge of the desert. It's the only way out.

The feast is over. I don't have any allies to leave who stays here will be killed by Mara or Titus. Flight is my only option so the choice is simple.

After taking one last look at the ruined city that housed the feast that destroyed my alliance, I run into the endless sands of the barren wasteland.


	23. Cast of Characters

**I just wanted to let my readers and followers know something. i will be taking the next few weeks to update and change my existing chapters instead of writing new ones. I want to make the story flow a little more as well as add in an extra subplot involving Annie's family and home life. I will not add anything major, although I may add a chapter or two here and there. I just want to make this story as good as it possibly can be and I think it is currently lacking some setup for the events to come. I have also considered lengthening the story; instead of stopping when the Games are over, I may extend it to until after the Games. Of course, this will include a romance with Finnick, which is a genre I have never written in before. Would you like that, more chapters? Feel free to give me your input, about the story so far, the plot, the characters, the dialogue, the narration, the direction, whether or not you like my Cast of Characters chapter, my decision to possibly make it longer, whatever.**

**Anyway, I hope you like the story so far and I will have the next chapter up in a few weeks or about a month. **

**Cast of Characters:**

As the story gets longer and longer, it will get harder and harder to remember characters. So, here I have composed a list of all characters, major or minor, with a basic description. It will be updated with every chapter. I know that many people despise spoilers (myself included), so this is a SPOILER-FREE zone. There will be no mention of character deaths, alliances, or anything of the sort. Enjoy, and feel free to check back here as many times as you need to.

Tributes:

District 4: Annie Cresta- The main character. She has long dark hair. She is small for a Career and excels at knife throwing. Not particularly big or strong but is very quick. Annie is overconfident at times and can act impulsively. She believes the Hunger Games are a true test of a tribute and has wanted to become the victor since she was little.

District 4: Toren- Annie's district partner. He has black hair and fair skin. He's a very large 18-year-old who excelled at many weapons in the Academy. He speaks methodically and is cautious and controlled in his decision-making and strategy. While Annie considers him a friend, she is also cautious about his loyalty.

District 1: Mara- A Female Career. A headstrong leader who is often in conflict with other Careers. Her primary weapon is the bow, but she knows many others. She is broad-shouldered with flaming red hair and is often insecure because of her troubled upbringing.

District 3: Jasmine- A fifteen-year-old girl who was reaped. She is one of the first tributes to be intimidated by Annie when she enters the Capitol. Jasmine is quiet and shy, but can fight back hard when provoked.

District 6: Titus- A twitchy volunteer who asked to join the Careers but was rejected. The reasons for his volunteering aren't known, although Annie believes he joined the Games simply to kill people in rather ugly ways.

District 1: Sheen- Male Career. An extremely strong tribute. His weapon is the spear.

District 2: Thorn- Male Career. He is one of the smartest tributes, and consistently tries to pacify the hot-headed Careers.

District 2: Sasha- Female Career. A quiet follower who leaves little impression on Annie. She excels at knives.

District 11: Holly- An edible plants expert who is broad-shouldered and considered to be a strong competitor by Annie.

District 11: Thistle- Holly's ally who is a good competitor in the Games.

District 3: Dominic- The youngest tribute at twelve years old, he is considered to be the weakest of the twenty-four.

District 5: Chris- A weaker tribute with a score of 4.

District 5: Chloie- A weaker tribute.

District 7: Joshua- A fourteen year-old tribute with a score of 5.

District 8: Gloria- A female tribute.

District 9: Matthew and Samantha- two tributes who are not threats.

District 10: Dimitri and Elsa- two weaker tributes

District 6: Aurora- a weaker tribute.

District 8: Bobbin- a weaker tribute

Panem Citizens:

Scylla- Annie's mentor. She won her Hunger Games by betraying her entire alliance at once. She is strict and tough, but she has coached many District Four tributes to victory.

Alexis- A small woman covered in bird tattoos who is Annie's stylist.

Jet- Toren's mentor. He is a little more passive than Scylla is and sometimes can calm her down.

Mrs. Cresta- An older woman in want of money. After losing her daughter and son-in-law to a boating accident, she spent their life savings to send her grand daughter Annie to the Academy when she was seven. Her greatest dream is for Annie to win the Games so they can retire to a life of luxury in the Victor's Village.

Cowrie Cresta- A fourteen-year-old girl who loves her big sister more than anything. They are extremely close and have bonded since their parents' death. She is a quiet girl who secretly doesn't want Annie to volunteer but is too afraid of her grandmother to speak up.

Atala- The woman in charge of the Training Center.

Head Gamemaker Maximus- This Gamemaker values strength most in tributes.

Caesar Flickerman- For those unfamiliar with him in the original series, he is the host of the Hunger Games and announces things like scores and interviews. Think of a weirdly dressed Ryan Seacrest.

Cashmere- Mara's mentor

Brutus- Thorn's mentor

Marcus- Toren's stylist.

Claudia- prep team worker.

Drusus- prep team worker.

Glaucia- prep team worker.

Lucretius- prep team worker.

Agrippa and Cornelia Gaius- two sponsors for the tributes of District Four.


End file.
